Lost daughter
by MyForbidden
Summary: A slave lashes out at her owners and is Chosen in the aftermath...
1. Chapter 1

A circle of destruction about a mile in diameter lay just short of two days ride south east of the Dhorisha Plains. It encompassed a hill and once held a house, but no more, having been destroyed by a mage who had finally been pushed into an insane rage by the owner of the house. It had been engulfed in flames, taking all who did not have the wits to get themselves out. All in all, few survived and no one came to their rescue.

The ghostly figure of a stallion moved through the ruined landscape, dodging flame and blinking against the smoke. His white flank was streaked w/ sweat and dirt from the road only to be joined now by soot, but it was obvious he did not notice. He also did not seem to notice the bodies beneath his hooves, taking no special care to avoid stepping on them. In fact, a passerby might have thought there was a definite extra force put into the steps he took when he tread through them, as if were trying to deliver a final blow to the dead beneath him, but neither his head nor eyes turned to acknowledge them.

Finally, the stallion paused in his journey, having found a figure near the middle of the destruction and far away from the others that circled her. She lay on her side unmoving, seemingly dead. Yet the stallion nuzzled her, pushing his nose against her shoulder until he finally got a response; a very tiny whimper.

He looked her over, the poor pathetic figure at his feet. She looked all of twelve, but he knew she was just shy of sixteen, with white hair that was peppered by soot and reddened by her own blood. She was thin and her mind was very, very fragile, but he saw extreme potential in her. She was important to him and to the place he wanted to bring her.

His nose nuzzled her again and this time she sobbed, shivering. Her body was cold, for she had very little on, and that, combined w/ the pain in her body and soul, crippled her. She could no more move on her own than the very smallest of newborns, only cry weakly and hope to die. If he'd had human lips, the stallion would have smiled. Her goddess was not going to come for her, not today. He'd been sent instead.

His mind touched hers and he gently sent a store of energy to her, just enough for her to rise up off the ground and climb onto his back. She probably would not remember this too well tomorrow, but that was alright; he would be with her always from now on.

There was plenty of time to explain.

* * *

_Author's Note: Okay, the next person who points out my shorthand in a review is going to get it._

_Listen up people- this story was started almost FIVE years ago, and finished almost TWO years ago, and if any of you people who are hung up on the shorthand had kept reading, you would have seen that it STOPS in the earlier chapters._

_AND if you had finished the story before posting a review, you would have seen that I had addressed it in the last chapter in another one of these Author's Notes._

_Like I said, I wrote this story years ago, and no, I am not going to fix it. I've left it up so that I have an example of how I have grown as a writer, and I made that other Author's Note to show that I realized that using the shorthand was a mistake._

_STOP POINTING IT OUT TO ME!_


	2. Chapter 2

A different smell greeted Emris when she woke, making her rub her nose absently. Her whole nose was filled with the scents of smoke, earth, horse, and sweat, but there was something underneath it that was nagging her. It was not something she was familiar with and she wanted to investigate it. She lifted her head, not quite realizing what she was doing, and buried her nose in the soft pillow she was sleeping on, trying to identify the smell. It took her a moment to realize it was not a pillow, but a living thing; she sat up with a jerk and ran her hands over it.

It was something big, with short, soft hair. Her wandering hands met powerful legs and even longer hair on the one end, at the other she found thicker legs and-

-Please don't go down so far,- a voice in her head suddenly said gently. She pulled back hesitantly. –I don't think either you or I would like you touching what you would find there.-

Emris wasn't surprised to hear the voice (she'd grown up with mages with such talents) but she was vaguely surprised to hear it coming from the horse- that was what she'd been sleeping on, and it appeared he was a full stallion, considering his comment on her inspection of him. Sometimes if she tried hard, she could hear the voices of animals, but none of them sounded as clear as the stallion or as intelligent.

"What are you?" she asked out loud. She was not entirely sure now that he was in fact a horse at all. In her strange sight, he was misty, like one form inside another. In fact, she was pretty sure that was what he was, something else inside of a horse's body, but what, she couldn't be sure.

-My kind are called Companions-, he explained to her. –We are horses in physical body, but I suppose you could say our souls are really spirits come back from the dead.-

"Reborn spirits," she muttered to herself. Her head felt fuzzy and she reached up a hand to rub her temple when she realized she wasn't wearing her eye band. Frantically, she groped for it in a small circle around her. It was nowhere to be found.

-You lost it last night,- the horse- Companion- told her. –There should be rags in the bag.-

Somehow, knowing where to look without knowing, she raised herself up and reached over his flank to find the bag behind him and searched through it until she found one of the long strips he was talking about. Her hands trembled as she tied it over her face, covering the gaping pits that hadn't held eyes for at least five years now. She always felt naked without something covering the holes, even if nothing was covering the rest of her. As was partially true at the moment. They'd been in the middle of using her when the fire started-

A fire SHE'D started. Her mind had finally snapped last night, finally broke under the pain that she'd grown almost used to all her life. In her defense, her owners really should have seen it coming, especially since they were such 'wise and mighty' people. Her nose wrinkled in rage and disgust. Blood path mages were not known for their consideration of other people's well beings.

Yet her heart sank again. She'd taken her anger out on all those in the house, not just those inflicting pain on her to leech the energy she gave off. There had been other slaves like her living in the house, and the very rare kind servant or two who took pity on them but could not truly stand up for their rights out of fear of the masters of the house. Her revenge had been blind and insane, taking even less consideration than Dorniant and his apprentices had.

The strange mix of smells invaded her nose again and she realized she'd pressed her face back into the Companion's flank, out of the need for comfort this time rather than sleep.

-Let us go away from here,- he offered softly, but firmly.

-Where?- she asked, unable to talk out loud anymore. Her throat and her heart ached too much for the effort.

-Home. My home. There are others like me and others like you, people who can help and protect you. Let me take you back with me.- There was an urgency in his 'voice' that cut deep into her heart, past the pain and the shields she put there. There was a personal need in his voice and also the need of a greater whole. She got the impression that he had plans for her, but there was none of the malice that Dorniant had had.

-What did you do to me?- she asked. His mind was too clear to her; she could 'see' him too well.

-My kind often Choose one of yours to essentially share our lives with; we bind ourselves with them so that we can work together for the greater good of our land. I Chose you,- he added, nuzzling her w/ his soft nose. A memory flared in her head; he'd done it last night when he'd pulled her from the burning wreck she'd made. She remembered curling up close to him and his mind touching hers. His was still touching hers. There was a definite bond there now, one that was slowly easing a loneliness she hadn't known she felt until now. There was love there- real love and a promise. A smile crossed over Emris's face. His promise was that he'd always be near her and guide her. She couldn't help but believe him. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a part of her now.

-I'm not much of a rider,- she warned him.

He whickered; his mind laughed. –We have time to remedy that. It is a long journey to my homeland.-

-How far away is it?-

-Far into the north. I came directly here; it took me almost four months. But we won't be able to do that now. It could take us double the time now, since you 'are not much of a rider' and neither of us can live off the land like normal Heralds.-

"Heralds?" she asked.

-Yes. Our chosen are called Heralds. When we reach my land, you will be considered a Herald, though in training.-

"Are there many of them?"

His mind was smiling. –More than you are used to, I think. But we are not always together, very rarely in fact. You will do fine. Come, we have to leave. There should be a change of clothes in the bag. Put them on and then we will go; we have a lot of ground to cover in a short period of time.-

Emris reached back into the bag, pulling out the clothes. She wasn't sure she could live up to his expectations; he had so much confidence in her- and she hadn't even asked him his name yet. Yet a shaking smile passed over her face; she at least would try. She could do that for him.

She put on the clothes, partially hoping they weren't inside out and partially not caring, and then awkwardly pulled herself onto the stallion's back. He rose slowly, allowing her to adjust to her seat and then started off in a steady trot in some direction.

-I forgot to ask you,- she said timidly. –What is your name?-

His mind chuckled again. –I am Jereth. And you are Emris.-

-That is just what they used to call me,- she corrected. –I think I can take a new name that suits me better. Emris means 'wretched slave' in some foreign language. And Heralds aren't slaves, right?-

-No, Heralds are not slaves. Slavery is something a Herald stands against. Our people could use any information you may have to help make our world a better place. Even the littlest of things can help.-

-Will they mind that I killed all of those people?- she asked frantically.

-I would not have Chosen you if they could not forgive. Companions do not make mistakes.-

Emris sighed at his answer and fell silently into herself. She wasn't entirely sure she believed that, but she could hope that it was true.


	3. Chapter 3

"An'desha, An'desha!"

The Kal'enedral opened his eyes and slowly unfolded himself from his meditation seat. He moved with deliberate though unconscious care, standing to go to the tent 'door'. His greeter was old enough to know not to barge in on him and was dancing from foot to foot waiting for him to emerge.

"What is it Dan'sa?" An'desha asked, trying to keep his grin in check. Whatever it was, the boy was excited enough to interrupt his meditation hour, an hour everyone in the camp knew was essential to his daily routine.

"There's a Companion, sir!" Dan'sa fairly yelled, waving his arms so hard that he had to take a step back in order to regain his balance. He pointed behind him in a vague direction of the center of the camp. "Oth'am's bringin' him in! He's beautiful!"

"Are you sure it's a real Companion?" Not that An'desha doubted to boy, but such creatures were rarely seen below Karse, let alone in the Dhorisha Plains. The Plains were far south of Valdamar, the home country of Companions and their Heralds. An'desha was more familiar with them than most Shin'a'in, having been to Valdamar himself and lived among Heralds for a time.

Dan'sa latched onto the older man's hand and tugged; now An'desha had to laugh. Sworn Ones like himself were rare enough that most children were afraid to even look at him directly, but little Dan'sa was too social for such inhibitions.

"He's all white and silver, and his hooves are like bells, do you think he'll let me pet him-" The boy went on for a few moments as they walked together, swinging An'desha's hand the whole way.

The Sworn One's face gave an interested look, but he wasn't really paying attention to the boy at his side. He had not missed the fact that the boy had not mentioned the Companion's Herald at all; did that mean he was alone or that Dan'sa was simply too enthralled by the creature? What was a Companion doing so far inside the Plains by himself? An'desha, who kept up communications with his Valdamarian contacts, had not received word to watch out for such a Companion. And since most Companions did not outlive their Chosen when they died, he would not believe the Companion had lost his Herald on the journey and was simply trying to get home.

"He's gone!" Dan'sa cried mournfully, as they reached the center. The remnants of the Companion's welcoming crowd were dispersing as people went back to whatever tasks they abandoned in order to see a legendary 'spirit horse'. Only the most curious children remained now. One of the older ones took charge of Dan'sa, directing An'desha to the tent reserved for the horses of the Clan. He waved his thanks and jogged the rest of the way to his destination.

The scout Oth'am was standing by the Companion's nose, gently rubbing it as if they were waiting. When she caught sight of An'desha, she nodded and left the creature w/ a pat, coming to speak to the Sworn One.

"Found him wandering on the southeastern border," Oth'am murmered in a low voice as she neared. She shared a trait with Dan'sa; neither seemed the least bit awed by An'desha's Kal'enedral status. Unlike the boy however, it made her also less prone to use the proper address when speaking to him when they were alone or even in small groups. He didn't mind really, taking it as a breath of fresh air.

"The southeast border?" he asked. Of all the borders, that was the furthest one from any path he expected a Herald to take.

She nodded. "Poor thing is injured, dirty and malnourished. I'll leave him to you; none of the rest of us know anything about taking care of their kind."

"They are similar to horses, but thank you anyway. I want to speak with him." The scout slapped him on the shoulder affectionately and left, leaving An'desha alone w/ the horses and the Companion.

The stallion looked even more miserable than Oth'am had conveyed to him. His white flank was no longer white, having been covered in dirt, soot, and what looked like to be dried blood. Underneath the grime, he was little else but skin and bones and very, very tired. Even with a Companion's abilities, it must have taken him at least three months to travel to this place.

To An'desha's surprise, he found that the stallion did indeed have a rider, a wraith draped in scraps of rags not fit for using in the foulest tasks, let alone on a person's back. He made no move to remove the still rider; it would not be proper to do so without asking the Companion first.

"You are a long way from home, leshya'e," he told the stallion softly, gently placing a hand on the creature's shoulder.

The Companion sighed and nodded. –Long yes, far yes. I had not expected to find you of all people here, An'desha of Kal'enel, but I suppose your Goddess smiles upon even my kind, though we do not follow Her.-

The Sworn One blinked in surprise again since most Companions did not speak to anyone but their own Heralds. The stallion must have seen the surprise in his face, for he added, -It would not be in our best interest for me to keep silent from you or anyone else who can aid us on our journey. My Chosen has never been away from her owner's home and she is not fully capable of caring for us both yet.-

"You came all this way to make your Choice?" An'desha cried, fully shocked. He had never heard of a Companion going so far to find their chosen Herald; it was rare they even left Valdamar at all to make the Choice.

-If you don't mind, would you take her from me? She is not heavy, but I am tired and sore…-

The Sworn One shook his head to clear it and moved to obey. The Companion was right; she was dangerously underweight and slid too easily from his back. An'desha placed her down on the hay at the Companion's feet and smiled sadly when the stallion automatically sidestepped so she lay in between both of his front hooves. The stallion would not step on her, being much more intelligent than horses (and even most people) and he obviously felt she would be safer there. There were no stalls in the tent exactly, since Shin'a'in steeds were better trained than other countries' beasts, so there was always a chance a horse could make a mistake and trod on the girl. There were a few especially curious ones who were even now trying to sniff the new stallion and rider, but they were shooed off by the Companion in a gentle, but firm manner. If they were too tenacious, one of the few stable hands who'd stayed would come and pull the horse away. No one suggested that the girl be taken away; the Companion hadn't instructed them to do so and it was foolish to try and separate a Herald and their steed, especially when the bond was new and the Chosen was particularly young.

Instead, An'desha asked," Will she be alright as I see to you?" The Companion nodded, his blue eyes blinking in fatigue. A stable hand silently brought An'desha brushes, cloths and a few other things that he would need to care for the stallion and then just as silently left.

It took a fair bit of time to properly groom and medicate the Companion, but he was never interrupted, though he did hear the stable hands scolding curious children outside and Dan'sa's distinctive giggle. An'desha knew that Jereth could count on a quiet night at the very least but he was actually hoping to convince the Companion to stay a bit longer to recover from whatever ordeal he'd been through. Normally, Companions who were bringing their newly Chosen back to Haven, Valdemar's capital, did not pause on their journey except to sleep, but Jereth was so far away and he would have trouble getting there in the condition he was in, even if he didn't have a rider.

The stallion was quiet and still as An'desha groomed him, speaking only once again to offer his name, Jereth. He did not even open his eyes or start at all when the Sworn One brushed over a particularly tangled spot or a deeper cut. The saddle was nearly in tatters but An'desha did not toss it away to be disposed of, opting instead to set it aside to be repaired. The saddle and tack were distinctive of Heralds and Companions and there would be questions if Jereth was found without the proper gear of his kind.

As he finished, he realized with dismay that Jereth had fallen asleep. It was against An'desha's better judgement to wake him again, but the girl had to be taken seen to and he couldn't do that while she was still on the ground. After a moment's thought, he slowly and carefully lowered himself to the ground and reached underneath the Companion to take ahold of the girl. He paused there, staying as still as he could while he waited. Jereth did not stir, so he pulled the girl gently out from beneath her Companion. An'desha didn't see Jereth open a weary eye as he carried the girl out of the tent.

The Sworn One sent for some clothes and brought the girl into his own tent. He also sent for the shamen since she was more skilled at healing than he was.

Together, he and Adel the shaman undressed, cleaned, and healed any wounds the girl had. Neither liked what they saw. The girl was underfed, though not starved, and too small for her age, but her stunted growth did not seem to be from malnourishment. Old scars littered her body, speaking of years of hard work and torture. The more they worked, the more disturbed they both became. Adel was shocked by the pits that used to hold her eyes; they'd been pulled out long ago by the scarring.

But An'desha was even more rattled by the girl. He was not concentrating on her physical body but rather her spiritual one, assessing her Gifts to know what he could expect when she woke. Memories stirred, not his own but those of the Beast; they recognized the spiritual wounds and the scarring.

She had been not just a slave, but a toy for a blood path mage, one who had discovered and utilized the girl's natural abilities. Her Gifts could easily be stronger than those of Firesong's when he was her age, but she would never be able to use them as the Hawkbrother mage did. Her owner had repeatedly forced the girl to tap into nodes and ley lines, then tortured her while he drained off her power, so that he could reap the benefits without any of the set backs. The white hair on her head was testament to that. Her Mage Gift channel would only function now in that method. If she tapped into nodes and tried to use the power, it would go instead to her other Gifts, which he found to be somewhat intact though sore. The active Gifts he found showed that she had more in common w/ Firesong; if she had been trained normally, she would have been a very powerful Healing Adept.

All in all, he guessed that she'd been used as a make shift channel, though she was nowhere near close to one and had gone blind just as An'desha's heart brother Karal had done all those years ago. Once her eyes had stopped working, her owner had probably figured she wouldn't need them anymore and used them as another torture device. The misuse of her Mage Gift had wounded her spirit and he guessed the Mage Storms had sealed the wound permenantly into place. There was nothing he could do for that, but the others he could soothe with Adel's help.

When they were finally done, An'desha felt sick in both mind and body. Adel didn't look much better than he did.

"We should get her back to the stable," the Sworn One said softly.

"We shouldn't move her," Adel protested weakly.

An'desha shook his head. "And if she wakes up without Jereth nearby, there is no telling what she will do. Their bond is new but it is strong. No one takes a Herald away from their Companion or vice versa without their permission. Even other Heralds do not. Jereth allowed me to bring her here out of necessity, but he might also be upset if he wakes and finds her gone."

An'desha gently picked up the now clean and now healing (not fully healed yet) Herald in training and brought her back to the stable tent. Either Adel saw the practicality of his words or she simply was too weary to protest; she followed him w/ a few blankets and opened the tent flaps for him. Jereth opened one eye as they approached but then settled back down as Adel laid a blanket down on the ground by the Companion's feet. The girl went on the first blanket and the rest were gently placed on top of her, where she curled up without a sound.

Both the shamen and Kal'enedral sighed and left the tent.


	4. Chapter 4

He slept. And as he slept, he dreamt. His mind fell into a spiral of memories before finally coming to rest in one particular scene. Well, dialogue really. There was nothing to see, nothing to study except words and sounds. Most of it was fuzzy and unimportant. One of the voices vaguely sounded like Nyara but she wasn't what he was looking for.

Gradually the voices focused. Soon he could hear the words and actually comprehend them. "Master, your daughter-"

"I don't have time for this," the Beast snarled.

"But my lord," the servant went on, "she had a nightmare last night-" Somewhere off in the distance there was a crash.

Another voice chimed in. "We found her room in disarray my lord." Another servant. "She had torn it apart in her sleep. Without using her hands."

"Oh?" The Beast asked, intrigued. An'desha also perked up out of his usual corner. He didn't dare look through the Beast's eyes, but he could listen. And he did.

"Yes my lord," the wiser servant answered.

"The nurse told you this?"

"We found the nurse in the room this morning. In pieces," the servant explained.

An'desha could feel the Beast's smile. It was not a pleasant one. "Bring her to me. I want to test her myself." A shuffling sound answered as the servant left to obey.

_Hm_, the Beast thought to himself. _Perhaps this one will not prove to be the disappointment Nyara was_.

* * *

The Sworn One opened his eyes to the dim twilight of the morning. He could feel the stillness of the camp and was glad for it. The thought of company was not appealing to him at the moment, not after what he'd just learned.

Strange that he'd found out exactly what he'd wanted not in the Beast's memories but his own. He'd gone into the trance yesterday and found very little. Perhaps it was because he'd been forcing the issue. Maybe he just hadn't been concentrating enough.

An'desha was both relieved and sad at the same time. Relieved because he knew the truth. Sad for the girl. The wounds in her soul and some of the ones on her physical body had been too familiar and now he knew why for sure.

Somewhere near the end of his life, the Beast had not only father Nyara but also other children, many of whom where taken away or abandoned. Usually it was because of disappointment; they were ugly or not 'worth his time' as he often justified to himself. Nyara was an exception because of her beauty, though she did not satisfy his want for a magical legacy.

The only other child that he ever kept was another daughter, one who didn't even have a name until the day the Beast realized she'd been what he'd been looking for. She had been a pretty girl and she'd had the talent to satisfy or even frighten most Adepts. The Beast saw her as not only a student but another opportunity, like Nyara had been. An experiment. He'd had plans for her, but An'desha did not know, nor wanted to know, what those were. The memories pertaining to the little girl were few: she'd been a toddler when Elspeth and Darkwind had thwarted him the first time and sent him into the abyss.

That was why he'd never given her any thought. The Beast had barely begun his work on her and there was no way she could have survived the destruction of his palace on her own. Very few servants knew of her, even Nyara had no idea she existed.

But there was no mistaking that she was Jereth's Chosen. Even if An'desha hadn't recognized the few scars that the Beast had given her before his demise, he still could feel the blood ties that connected them. Few bonds were as strong or lasted so long: blood ties never faded away though they could weaken. It was only the fact that he and the girl were both so strong magically that An'desha could feel it at all.

When she woke up, would she recognize him? If he explained, would she understand? No, he couldn't risk it. Besides, it wouldn't change anything if she knew. She couldn't stay and he couldn't keep her. She was going on to do greater things and he had no right to ask her to stay. But should he at least tell Jereth?

An'desha sighed and closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do about this at the moment. He turned over and tried to go back to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

She could sense beings around her. Emris guessed that they were animals since their emotions were far less complex than the other slaves and servants in her old home. And from the smell, they were probably horses. Jereth was nearby, but she could tell he was sleeping. Her own body wanted to join him again, but now that her mind was awake, she knew it would be impossible.

Her world up until this point had seemed so small. For some reason, it had never occurred to her that there might be other things outside of the Master's house, other people aside of the servants that tended him and the slaves he had used. They'd been traveling for almost a week, and though they hadn't really met anyone, she'd been astonished by the sheer amount of space and distance. Her whole life had been confined to a space that she could have walked from end to end in less than ten minutes- in moments she'd been allowed to wander freely of course.

Why had she never realized that the Master been getting all those blood sacrifices from somewhere other than his own walls? Of course it made sense now that it was easier to steal people from others than use one of his own that he would have to replace later on. And now that she thought about it, perhaps it added to the effectiveness of the magic produced; the simple action of taking all the person had to offer by force. Would not a captive yield more magic than a slave or servant who had been only following orders?

Emris shivered for a moment, trying to steer her mind from those thoughts. She knew much more about her Master's magic than she wanted to. The very idea of it was making her stomach feel like it had about a dozen holes in it.

A distraction freed her by turning her attention to her clothes and surroundings once again. She felt warm, truly warm. Once and awhile, she'd been allowed to sit by one of the fireplaces and only then had her shivers been abated until they had taken her away again. She felt that way now, but there was no fire around. The clothes were thick and warm, made from some sort of hide and wool. Her feet were covered! By both stockings and some sort of soft shoes. Her toes felt confined, but it seemed like a small price to pay since she could wriggle them and actually feel it. Her hair had been braided and was away from her face. Even her eye wrap was different, made from soft material that didn't itch.

A flare of something bright in her world of dimly lit horses, something much more intricate and complicated. The new human weaved his or her way through the horses and Emris realized that she was the destination the human was trying to reach.

She froze. From experience, she knew that most people had trouble telling if she was asleep or awake if she didn't move. Emris only vaguely remembered what it was like to see with true eyesight, but she did remember that communication through the eyes was important to people, even when they weren't thinking about it. With her own eye pits covered, other people were sort of crippled in a way, unable to read Emris' emotions or intentions properly because of that major difference.

It seemed to work on this newcomer as well. He or she did not speak to or approach her too closely. She studied the person for a moment, as he very quietly moved around her.

It was a he, since Emris had long ago learned that males shared certain subtle traits in their auras with other males, as did females with each other. And yet, this newcomer was like no other male she'd ever 'seen' before. He had no female traits at all, but far less masculine traits than most males did. It was as if he were more neutral than masculine, though Emris had no idea why.

He was also a mage, more powerful than any mage in her Master's house and far more powerful than even the Master himself. There were the scars of bloodpath magic on him, as of one who has been only been touched and wounded by it, not a practitioner. He seemed both old and young, as if his soul and body were two different ages. And there was also a strange light about him that reminded her of Jereth, something that connected him to… some other place. She frowned despite herself. Place was not the right word for this man. Perhaps person was more appropriate. Or being.

She heard him carefully step over her and felt him pass above her as well. His emotions were steady and calm, but there were little undercurrents of guilt and concern. The concern seemed to be directed at herself and Jereth, but the guilt; that seemed to come from other directions, places she couldn't follow. And she knew they were places she SHOULDN'T follow, though her curiosity had stirred. She and Jereth had talked as they had traveled and he'd explained a few things to her.

Emris decided it was probably time for her to stop pretending she was asleep. Jereth wouldn't have brought her here if she had anything to fear from this person. And besides, that strangle other-light was about as good as her Master had been evil.

But before she could speak up, another light suddenly wove its way through the horses, a younger human boy with a bundle of impatient energy. Most of the horses ignored him, a few showed a bit of exasperation as he passed. It was obvious that they all knew him, that he was a regular here. He was quick, but quiet enough that he startled the older man when he approached.

"An'desha! Have they woken up yet-"

The adult was quick to shush the boy, stepping around Jereth and over Emris herself again. "Dan'sa, I told you to be quiet when you come in here." His quiet voice was deep in both sound and that strange other-connection like Jereth's.

"I-know-but-the-others-wanted-to-know-what-should-I-tell-them?"Emris heard the man sigh. Obviously the boy was a troublemaker even if he didn't mean to be, and he exasperated more than the horses.

"Tell them she still needs rest. Go on." The boy went back out again, much slower this time. The poor thing was so disappointed, but Emris was relieved to see him go. He had too much energy for her to deal with at the moment.

"How long have we been here?" she asked as soon as she gathered the courage. The man was instantly startled and she impulsively curled up into a protective ball.

"I'm sorry-" he started to say, but she cut him off.

"I know you didn't mean to," she told him softly, at the same time silently willing herself to uncurl in her head.

"You know Shin'a'in," he remarked, his voice still low. He knelt down beside her.

"One of the others taught me," she answered softly, cringing for a moment when his fingers touched her forehead. He paused until she relaxed again. "And I think Jereth helped a bit…"

"Companions usually do, even if you don't know it," he agreed.

"Is this Jereth's home?" she asked. "Have we arrived?"

She could feel his dismay and regret. "No little one, this is not his home. Only a checkpoint. But we are allies, the Heralds and the Shin'a'in. You are safe here. You can rest here until you are strong enough to travel again. I should have sent Dan'sa for something to eat," he added, more to himself than her.

"I'm not hungry," she answered truthfully.

"That's your tired body talking. It is hungry, but too weak to know it." Now the dismay was replaced by anger. She wondered if he knew what she had been. "I am An'desha. I am what we call a Kal'endral, one Sworn to our Goddess." Was that what the other-light meant? That he was connected to his Goddess? Was Jereth connected to the same thing?

"And I'm- I'm-" she tried to sit up, but couldn't will her body to hold her weight. When An'desha moved to help her, she didn't cringe. "Well, I'm not exactly sure. I don't want the name they called me."

"Then you should pick a new one. Our cousins, the Hawkbrothers, believe that a name should reflect a person. You are not a slave anymore, so there is no need to keep such a name if it is unwanted," he told her. "You will have plenty of time to find a new one for yourself."

"Do I have to move as I do?" she asked pathetically, feeling suddenly tired again.

She could almost- almost- feel his smile. She could certainly see it in his emotions. "Not today, little star. Maybe tomorrow."


	6. Chapter 6

"You call me that a lot. Why?"

"You're supposed to be concentrating."

"And you're avoiding my question."

She could feel his eyes suddenly on her. "I am not. I'm simply trying to continue the lesson."

"Little star, star child, star bright- why?" Her head fell into a curious, sideways angle. "One of the others, the one who taught me Shin'a'in, would call me those names too. Star fire- I never understood why. And now, you do it."

"You certainly are tenacious," An'desha remarked, giving up on his posture. "I don't know. They just come to me, I suppose. _A true nickname is a slip of one's tongue, not picked from a barrel_. "

"Hmm." Her head straightened. "Are you sure that's not just a nice way of soothing children who are being teased?"

"I didn't write it." He was surprised and somewhat pleased that she'd been so intuitive.

"And you still haven't answered my question."

He laughed. "Tenacious is not the word! It is much too mild!" He paused. "Maybe it's your appearance."

Now she was the one who was surprised. "My appearance?"

-What? You never thought you had one?- Jereth asked.

-Would it sound stupid if I said no?- she asked. Out loud, she added, "I never gave much thought to my appearance, except for my…" Her head bowed as she drifted off.

"Do you remember the stars at all?" he asked quietly. He went on before she could answer, "They burn in the sky like tiny candles. Like fireflies above a lake. Bright and glowing, soft and flickering. They are in Her eyes and they watch over us. When we die, our souls become them if we choose not to come back, and we look down upon the next generations in pride. They are our hope and represent our dreams. A constant in a world of change and uncertainty. Our guide when we are lost." His voice was distant and deep, the 'other' connection deepening and flaring brighter as if it reacted to his words.

"They say when a star falls, it is again reborn into the world. That is what I see when I look at you, starlet. Your white hair speaks of your magic, but it also reminds me that you are the future. Perhaps you were a falling star who could not let go of its glow." She could almost feel his shrug. "Now can we please go back to the meditation? You are leaving tomorrow and I want you to be prepared."

"By sitting quietly?" she asked.

"By sitting quietly and balancing your mind. Solidifying your calm. It is all right to be afraid, but you must not give into your fear. When your world feels like it is too big or too shaky, 'sit quietly' and remember how you feel in this moment."

This time she obeyed and did not break the silence. The Sworn One's calm washed over her and she basked in it, letting it fill her. Jereth stood like a supporting anchor in the back of her mind, strong and able. The stay here had rejuvenated him. She wondered if she would ever feel so confident.

But her mind turned away from that. It nurtured and fed another little thought that had suddenly found its way in, and by the time An'desha finally brought their 'sitting' session to a close, she was almost as itchy as little Dan'sa.

"I'll see you off in the morning," An'desha said quietly. He was so sad; she had the sudden urge to touch and comfort him, but suppressed it. There was something more there that she was afraid to ask about and so she voiced her little seed of thought.

"I was wondering," she said, just as he turned to leave, "Are there any Shin'a'in names that mean 'star'? Or partially?"

"A few. Seren, Ast'a, Hes'pen. Sidra, Ta'ar, Utta- They have meanings like 'bright as' or 'born of' star or stars," he answered. "And there are many other variations."

"Sidra," she whispered, turning it on her tongue.

-I like it,- Jereth said encouragingly.

"I think that's a name I could carry," she remarked out loud. "Sidra."

An'desha's reaction was indescribable. She'd never felt that kind of emotion come from anyone around her, certainly not directed at her. It made her feel embarrassed and yet almost- proud. Pride? Was that what she felt from him? It was a potent mixture that she found herself wanting to escape. It was stifling and she felt unworthy beneath its aura.

"It suits you," he whispered and left, leaving her confused and almost alone.

-Pride does not begin to do justice to that,- Jereth remarked gently. –Get used to it. I'm sure he won't be the last teacher you'll impress.-

-It was more than that,- she argued.

Jereth mentally shrugged. –One day, maybe, you'll make more sense of it. Get some sleep.-

Sidra- oh it was so easy already to think of herself with that name- took his advice and curled up on her bedroll. Sleep didn't come easily though; she lay awake for some time, contemplating what she'd seen and what she might see tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

EDIT: ... Ack... I just realized I had used a different method to represent mind-speech... Ah, oh well, I'm too lazy to change it...

_Do you think I could now?_

_I suppose. Is there anyone around?_

Sidra listened for a moment. _Birds. Trees. I don't think it works on trees._

_You could always try._

_Do you want me to get myself into trouble?_

_I think it would be good for you._

Sidra mentally frowned. Now she wasn't so sure she could trust Jereth's judgment.

He whickered, which was his form of physical laughter. _Oh, come on. You know you want to. Besides, I want you to. It makes you happy._

_But the last time-_

_I think the trees will forgive you._

_It's not the trees I'm worried about._

_I like listening to you._

_That's not the point._

_You worry too much._

She draped herself over his neck, burying her fingers in his soft mane. The action stretched out the muscles in her back, which felt good.

Too good. Sidra began humming before she could even think about what she was doing. She hastily sat back up, which made Jereth sigh.

Apparently she was privy to a magical talent called Bardic Gift, which was something she wasn't sure she quite understood. She did know it meant things happened to people who heard her voice and the effects were far stronger when she sang than when she simply spoke. Unfortunately, it had come to both Jereth and Sidra's attention during a music lesson with the last Shin'a'in clan. She'd rarely heard music before and had never sang herself but when she'd tried it-

The truth was she loved it. That was probably why it had had such a strong effect on the audience. Jereth explained that usually the Gift only manipulated the emotions of the listeners- not actually thrown them into trances. Later on, the clan shaman had concluded that her voice had actually put some of the effected into healing trances and a few who'd been chronically ill for some time were actually healed.

Sidra didn't care. She'd been spooked. The thought that just the power of her voice could do so many things- it frightened her. The worst was that neither the shaman, who knew next to nothing about the Bardic Gift, nor Jereth, a Companion, had ever seen anything like the Gift she'd displayed. Jereth had muttered something about a bard named Stefen but by then she'd been too rattled to ask him to elaborate. All in all it meant that no one was really qualified to teach her to control her power and she couldn't wait in one place with someone to muddle through with her.

_You only tried it once. How can you know how to control the power if you've only done it once? Do you even remember what it felt like_?

_I don't even know any songs_.

_Like I care. It doesn't matter. What matters is what you learn from the experience_.

_Sometimes you talk as if you're younger than me- then you say things like that and you sound like you're a hundred_, she grumbled, lying down again.

_I try._

Sidra didn't answer. Instead, she just smiled. Then a thought hit her. _What if the power affects you?_

_It won't._

_But-_

_We're connected, bonded. I'm supposed to be an anchor of sorts- which means I can resist whatever you throw at me, especially now when you don't know what you're doing._

_You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?_

He didn't answer, which meant he was trying to be mysterious. She hated when he did that.

Her fingers twined through his long hair again. His easy gait beneath her was hypnotic. She felt her breathing fall into the meditation rhythm that An'desha had taught her- it felt like years and not weeks ago. A tune began to creep its way in, and though she realized instantly that it was the same one she'd been taught by the clan, it took her longer to notice that something was different.

"I don't feel it," she said out loud, the first thing she'd spoken in days.

_Neither do I._

"Maybe it only happens when I'm not trying to do it."

Jereth snorted. _It doesn't usually work that way. Even with no one around but me, I still should have felt some sort of power connected to the humming. I didn't feel a thing._

"What does that mean?"

_I don't know. It's strange, but your power seems to run on instinct- you view the world with it. Maybe your Gift only activated because of the sick clan members._

_I felt so ill when they were around. A part of me wanted to wrap my arms around them and let them cry- they were so scared and sad._ A relative silence fell- of course it wasn't total since there was wildlife everywhere. But Jereth fell deep in thought, and Sidra let him, preferring to reflect for a bit.

It had happened before- with An'desha, the ill ones, a few stray children here and there. They were in pain and it was all she could do to stop herself from going to them. Something in her wanted to soothe and console- it felt like it was ingrained in her. Wasn't she something like a healer? Did she have the right to help them?

-Hooded fledgling, why hood a fledgling?-

She half sat up, startled. "What was that?"

_Hm_? Jereth asked lazily.

_Didn't you hear?_

-Frightened? Hood frightened birds, yes? Fledgling frightened?-

_There it is again!_

_What is it?_ Jereth stopped, standing still and erect. _I don't hear anything._

-No, Houh, we do not hood our fledglings because they are frightened. Show me again, please?-

_I think there's something nearby._


	8. Chapter 8

-Hooded fledgling. Why hood a fledgling?- Houh asked from up in the trees.

-What?- Featherdance called back absently. She was on patrol and, though she loved her inquisitive bondbird, was not really interested in answering the owl's questions. Houh was young, the youngest of her birds, and always needing to know something about the world.

Maybe he is still too young, she thought to herself, quickly scaling a tree. It was a debate that she and his parents-

-Frightened? Hood frightened birds, yes? Fledgling frightened?- he asked.

-Houh, what are you talking about?-

His answer was a picture, a vision seen through his eyes. He had seen a rider and a mount, both very unusual and nothing like anything either of them had ever seen. They were travel-worn and thin, but not starved. The rider's eyes were covered, like Houh had said, and her clothes were the palest Shin'a'in garb Featherdance had ever seen. The horse was even paler and it took the scout a moment to realize that it wasn't a horse at all.

The image was gone before Featherdance could really make much sense of it.

-?????-

-No, Houh, we do not hood our fledglings because they are frightened. Show me again, please?- Featherdance asked. He obeyed and she once again saw through the young owl's eyes. It was an actual Companion, one of the spirit horses from Valdemar! What was it- he- doing so far south of the homeland of the Heralds? Featherdance had never met a Herald herself, but she had heard of them, mostly tales of their bravery and kind deeds. Still, there was no mistaking a Companion; they were even more different to horses as Houh was to a regular owl his age.

The Companion stallion had stopped moving, his posture erect and alert. His rider too had moved from her relaxed position. She sat upright now, her head bowed to her chest but Featherdance could tell that she was listening. She was so small, couldn't be more than thirteen years old, but she had to be one of those Herald mages. Her wild mane of torso length hair was barely tamed by the leather band that kept it pulled back from her face and it was whiter than her Companion's- a telltale sign.

Featherdance pulled back from Houh and quickly began to make her way through the treetops. It didn't take her very long to find them for herself, Houh preened in a nearby tree, blinking in the setting sun.

-????-

-I don't know, Houh. Let's just see what they do for now.-

"I know you're out there, Hawkbrother. I can hear you and your bondbird," the Herald called in Shin'a'in. "If you mean to harm us, please do it now, when I can't tell exactly where you are. If you don't, then at least show yourself and hear what we have to say. Or leave," she added as an after thought.

Featherdance raised an eyebrow. Practical, just like a Shin'a'in would be if Featherdance had been at all fooled by the Herald's garb. Her voice had been strong and her posture had given away none of the apprehension the youngster must have been feeling.

The stallion whickered like he was trying to laugh and bobbed his neck as his alert posture left him.

_My goodness! How mature you sounded!_ Featherdance heard a mind-voice- the stallion's- say.

"Really? I was going for imposing and sure of myself. Do you think she heard me? I don't know if I could say it again," the Herald remarked, twining her fingers through the Companion's hair.

_She?_

"I know she's nearby. Somewhere over that way." The Herald accurately pointed in Featherdance's general direction, even upwards as if she knew Featherdance was up in the tree. "And her bondbird is up there somewhere." She also accurately pointed up in Houh's direction.

_You might as well come out, scout. It's late and we could use shelter and a bit of real food_, the Companion called out.

"But I like the dried fruit," the Herald protested.

_Why eat dried when you could eat fresh?_

"I'm afraid I can't help you with that," Featherdance called back, climbing down from the tree. "All I have is scout's fare, and we're a day's ride from the Vale."

_Ah, well, I tried._

"I don't mind, honestly," his rider mumbled.

-????-

-Not right now, Houh.-

The Herald's head fell sideways, looking so much like Houh at his most curious moment that Featherdance bit her lip to keep from chuckling. What the rider said next banished her laughter- "He must pelt you with questions all the time, doesn't he? You sounded so exasperated."

"You heard that?" Featherdance's voice came out in a squeak.

The Companion sighed. _You can hear bondbirds now? Even ones bonded to their Hawkbrothers? Let us hope you cannot hear bonded Companions as well, otherwise you might be in trouble_.

"Was I not supposed to hear it? Oh no, I thought you and An'desha had worked out all of my Gifts!" the girl exclaimed.

"Most people don't," Featherdance remarked, stepping out of the tree line. "I've heard of other mages with animal-speech who can hear other bondbirds than their own. You are not trained?" The girl shook her head. "Why would you bring your untrained Herald so far south? If it is for training, there are more northern Vales. And there is your own Collegia, no? Did Wingsister Elspeth not establish a new one? We hear such news and rumors here."

_We are traveling north. I am bringing Sidra up from her homeland_, the Companion explained.

"Not my homeland," the girl muttered darkly. "I never had one."

_From slavery then_, the Companion amended. _She is technically not a Herald, or even a Herald-in-training yet, as she has not even been to Haven._

"You came all this way to find her?" Featherdance asked, shocked. "I'm sorry, I don't know much about how Heralds do things- I haven't even introduced myself yet! I am Featherdance k'Vala, scout of the clan k'Leshya."

_Jereth and Sidra of Valdemar_, the Companion said simply.


	9. Chapter 9

The way station was small but quiet. It smelled old and dusty but it had a makeshift bed and a few comforts that made Jereth positively limp with happiness. He was asleep now, but Sidra stayed awake, unable to calm her buzzing head.

They had crossed into Valdemar just three days ago, found the way station yesterday. She could tell that the Companion was relieved by this- after nearly six months on the road, his home was in sight. Yet Sidra couldn't have been less happy for him, but she didn't let him know that.

Truth was that she was frightened. Not only of finally getting the definitive answers to all the questions she'd gathered on the road but also of the actual destination. The few times they had been around people, in the few villages they passed, in the k'Vala Vale, among the Shin'a'in clans, she'd been swamped by the emotions she'd felt around her. The shield she had been taught only held back the deepest emotions, but the surface ones were always present. She used the sensations she felt from all the living things around her to make her way through without her eyesight- a sixth sense that she knew she'd never be able to turn off.

The last of the Tayledras had warned Sidra about Haven; it was much bigger than even all the Vales and Shin'a'in clans put together. She was afraid of getting overwhelmed and lost.

At least her Bardic Gift was somewhat under control. With some practice, Sidra could now talk to the injured or ill without her power gushing out to do its work. A traveling Tayledras healer and scout had escorted them into k'Vala territory and had taught Sidra a few tricks along the way.

But they wouldn't protect her from all those minds invading her own. All the mages she'd met had explained to her that her abilities were not ones she could turn on and off like their own- they could take her very free will away from her and essentially force her to do the things they wanted to do.

A wound from the Mage Storms, they all said. Something completely out of her own fault or control.

Sidra was not hopeful or stupid. And from what she'd heard, neither were Heralds. It was no longer possible for her to believe that they might not see her as too untrustworthy. Uncontrollable. Wild. The only thing she had in her favor was Jereth, and how would one Companion fare against all of the rest if they all decided she was too much of a liability?

It was not only the sick she was beginning to be drawn to. It was the mentally ill as well, the stressed, and the depressed. A little girl, orphaned in a freak accident which only she out of her family had survived- Sidra had gone to her immediately when she'd felt her nightmare all the way across the Vale. Her grief and guilt had been all she could think about as she went, like a beacon she was drawn to.

The bandits they'd encountered just days after leaving Featherdance's ekele. Their desperation overrode her desire to save her own life. They were just farmers turned rogue from failing crops.

She had no idea where her life was heading but could she do her job- whatever that would be- if her magic kept causing her to go a different way? True control- if she could achieve it- also meant true blindness. Sidra had once looked through Jereth's eyes to see what the world actually looked like and vowed never to resort to that. The feeling of it was something she couldn't explain to her Companion and it was something she never wanted to experience ever again.

Maybe they would send her away. Some instinct in her knew that they would not kill her if she proved to be dangerous. But they could banish her. She knew it would break Jereth's heart if they did.

Would they see her as some sort of monster? With all her scars and wounds? Not everyone could be like Featherdance or the healer Darksky. Or An'desha.

She frowned, realizing that she hadn't thought about An'desha in a long time. Of all the people she'd met since Jereth had Chosen her, he was the one w/ the most hope and faith in her (aside from Jereth himself of course). She had connected w/ him instantly, he had understood her instantly. He had seemed to know exactly what had been initially wrong w/ her. And that frantic feeling he felt when he was around her; it wasn't lust or even pure love between mates. It reminded her somehow of little Swiftwind- for a few hours, Sidra had become the mother that the little girl had lost in the fire. What had she been for the Sworn One?

Thinking about An'desha suddenly made her feel calm. The tense feeling in her back eased and she sank a bit further down into her 'bed'. If they sent her away, maybe he would take her in. It wouldn't happen, but the thought calmed her enough to allow her to finally sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Talia gently lifted the girl's eyewrap briefly, but let it fall back down when she felt the Companion grow tense behind her. Jereth was more protective of his Chosen than most Companions, insisting that little Sidra be brought with him into the stable. The Queen's Own had seen all she'd intended to see but stayed by the girl's side for a moment.

Reports of this new Herald-in-training had been trickling in for over half a year. First came a hastily scrawled letter from An'desha- more detailed ones followed by him. Others came from both the Shin'a'in and the Tayledras, all describing this girl child and warning of her wild and so far uncontrollable power. All the reporters- mages and non alike- had expressed concern for the girl's well being as well as Haven's own.

Talia, Elspeth and Darkwind had taken the news very, very seriously, spending a lot of their waking hours researching past Gifts and Heralds. The closest they had come was actually Bard Stefen, who's Gift allowed him to block pain, but even he could not heal through his singing. The pain blocks he was able to accomplish were also restricted to physical pain- Sidra was apparently able to heal mental wounds as well, having soothed grief and partially mending a broken mind on the road.

Seeing Sidra like this, even never having met the girl before, made Talia very, very nervous. She had come in basically catatonic, overwhelmed by the scope of emotions of the city and the Palace Collegia. Not even Jereth was sure of her basic range- it could be miles in diameter. It was not good for her to be this way, unfettered and unshielded.

And yet, Jereth, Gwena and even Rolan were adamant that she not be shielded or 'called' in anyway. The trio had been basically ordered by every Companion to leave her be. Jereth was the most eager but refused to elaborate- Talia got the impression from Rolan that they wanted Sidra to pull through the chaos herself.

If she could. Talia glanced back at Elspeth, whose face was blank as she talked (or more probably argued) mentally w/ Gwena. Darkwind leaned up against the stable wall, looking calm but Talia knew he was a bit anxious. He was almost as worried as she was, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for his mate to speak again.

Dirk appeared around the stable corner, smiling briefly before kneeling down next to Talia.

"How is she?" he asked.

"No change. I don't Feel anything from her at all. I Feel the city, the students, the Companions. I don't Feel Sidra," Talia whispered.

Dirk sighed and stood. "Is there anyone we could call? One of the mage schools? Firesong? Has this ever happened before?"

"No. I did write to Firesong, and he did offer to come down, but I decided not to ask him. He has his own student up north, though I think Darien might have passed Master by now," Talia explained. "Besides, he's not really a healer and her powers are supposedly all being channeled that way. According to An'desha, all the power from the Mage Gift she has is being fed into those other ones- it's completely eroded and only works through blood path technique."

"Are you-" he began to ask but Elspeth unknowingly cut him off.

"Three months," she said, shaking her head angrily.

"Three months of what?" Darkwind asked.

"I gave them three months. Gwena originally insisted on a year, but that's too long," Elspeth explained. She was not at all happy about whatever decision had been decided. "For three months, we wait and leave Sidra alone. After that, we can shield her, block her, bind her, whatever we want."

"That's too long, ashke," Darkwind insisted. "By then, she may be so far gone that she won't have a mind left to save!"

"I don't even want to give her a day, but neither Gwena nor Jereth will take any less than three months," Elspeth snapped back. "Have you ever heard two Companions yelling in your head at once? It's not fun!"

Talia reached out for Rolan and was met by stubborn refusal. He too, wanted at least the three months that Jereth had insisted upon. She gave him her concern but he was solidly convinced of the hope that Sidra would not only come out of her state but also intact and relatively unchanged. Talia got the impression that this was some sort of test, that is was a challenge she needed to go through.

The Queen's Own sat down, took Sidra's hands and delved deeper into the girl's absent consciousness. She felt Jereth try to come with her, but Rolan pulled him back, knowing Talia was trustworthy. She simply wanted to see if Sidra had found her ground and center, then lost them- she knew that she had been taught by An'desha to find those all important things. Talia knew what it was like to suddenly lose them, although technically, Talia had never established them before her field test.

To her surprise, she found Sidra's ground intact. Where the center had gone, Talia had no idea, but she knew now that it was possible for Sidra to regain her 'footing' so to speak without much complication. Maybe in time, the grounding would crumble, but for now-

"She'll be okay, I think," Talia said, opening her eyes. "She's like healers; natural grounding, but she's lost her center. If she finds it soon, she'll recover fully."

"And if she doesn't" Elspeth asked.

Talia shrugged. "We have three months to form a plan. As long as the grounding stays intact, she should be fine. I want to monitor her though. Maybe we should move her to the healer's wing."

"No," Dirk said with a shake of his head. "Keep her here. Jereth is here; he'll watch the grounding and call us if something's wrong. But I'd feel better if someone checked on her everyday, a healer or another empath. Or a mage, someone."

_She's strong_, Jereth said. _When I found her, she wasn't, but the journey has given her strength she never knew she could have._

"That's all well and good," Talia chided, "But she's a girl, not a Companion. Humans don't work the same way as you do."

_We know_, Jereth answered, taking no offense to her rude tone. He rubbed his nose in Sidra's hair and whickered when he got a bit of drool in it. _Oh, she'll be so mad when she finds out I did that._

"Are you even concerned at all?" Elspeth exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and stomping out. Darkwind declined to comment, obviously feeling exactly the same way. Talia caught Dirk's eye and they shared a look for a moment, conversing silently. All they could do- with their hands tied by the Companions- was wait it out and see.

* * *

It was a week into their vigil that Sidra first disappeared. The stable was empty of both girl and Companion, and it took Darkwind and Vree nearly all day to finally find her again. They caught Karal and Altra leading the girl back across Companion's Field, having found her huddled in a corner of the Karsite sanctuary.

A few days later, the Tayledras representative found her in the ekele, lying amongst the plants. Soon, she was seen wandering all over the Collegia, never in the same place twice, never truly conscious. Jereth was always not far away, watching her w/ a careful, but unconcerned eye. Sometimes, she was seen simply walking side by side with him as he grazed.

The trainees began to jokingly call her 'the Ghost' because of her white hair and pale complexion. Most spotted her out of the corner of their eyes and just missed her as she turned a corner. Why she wandered, no one could really explain, except for a few of the wiser ones who thought that maybe she was unconsciously drawn by large crowds of people. No less than three songs were written about her by the Bards- only one was actually a serious composition- and many of the smallest children took to following her around as if she led them places.

In the end, most people got used to her suddenly appearing and going. A few times, a Blue or two would decide she was worth the trouble of torturing, only to find a Bard or Herald Trainee at her side as a sort of bodyguard, unless she was outside and then Jereth always watched anyone who approached her. She always managed to return to the stable when the day was done, except for one time when she'd been in the room where one of the healer's patients had died. She'd sat down against the wall and hadn't moved until one of the healers came and returned her to the stable


	11. Chapter 11

Lucilla plucked her lute out of habit- she wasn't really thinking about playing at the moment but her fingers didn't like to stop. She was tired, both over and under whelmed, and utterly depressed. Why she came into the Companion's stable, she wasn't sure, because it only aggravated her black mood.

All her life, she'd dreamed of being a Herald. Her mother had always told her that Herald blood ran in the family, that one of her great aunts had been a Herald or something. But it had been a Master Bard who'd plucked her off the street, not the Companion she'd always prayed would come. He'd brought her into the palace and entered her into the Bardic Collegium, not the Heraldic Collegium. She had the Bardic Gift, not the traditional Gifts of those who were Chosen.

Not to mention she stuck out like a sore thumb. Or that for all the Malic's recommendations, Lucilla seemed to be completely the opposite of what they were looking for. She was shy, had stage fright, couldn't barely speak above a whisper and wasn't at all pretty.

At least she could play. Her fingers were deft and always sure. Her pitch was always perfect. And she picked up languages fast, having learned Shin'a'in and a bit of Karsite already. But those talents were far outweighed by her short comings. Even her teachers seemed to overlook them, shaking their heads at her follies and mistakes.

The Companions were sweet to her, though. The unBonded ones let her feed and sometimes brush them, lipping her as if they knew she needed the affection. But none of them ever approached her in the way she longed for and they never explained why.

"Ugh! I smell completely like horse!" a voice suddenly rang out in the stable. Lucilla got up and rounded the corner in the empty stall she'd been hiding in, just in time to see a two legged figure stumble out of one of the other stalls. The person was sniffing herself all over and batting her clothes as if it would make the smell go away, only to be overwhelmed by the dust. Lucilla watched her for a second before realizing who she was looking at.

It was the Ghost! That crazy Heraldic they said was always sleepwalking around the place! There were all sorts of rumors flying about; usually they said something to the way of the girl having only half a mind or something of the like. Her eyes really were hooded like the stories said! Lucilla had only glimpsed her once before, floating aimlessly down the hallway.

"And you got drool in my hair!" the 'Ghost' shrieked in Shin'a'in, wiping her hands on the stall wall after discovering the stuff. "And my mouth feels funny. How long was I- a month? A month? No wonder my mouth feels like a cotton rag." She suddenly went still, as if she'd suddenly noticed something.

"Hello?" she called, her head turning in Lucilla's general direction. Her speech had gone from Shin'a'in to a hesitant, accented Valdemarian. "No, there _is_ someone here. Just because _you_ can't see her, doesn't mean she's not there." A Companion's head suddenly appeared from the stall, looking around and seeing Lucilla watching them.

_If you would be so kind as to take Sidra to the bathing chamber? Either the Bardic or Heraldic will do. She's been- asleep- for about a month and hasn't had a proper wash_, someone suddenly said in her head. Lucilla blinked.

"Now you startled her," the 'Ghost' scolded. "But I really do need a bath- I smell awful!" Her voice was so sincere and pitiful that Lucilla sighed and came closer.

"It's not far actually. I can take you." Now that the Ghost- Sidra- was standing properly and awake, Lucilla was surprised to see how small she was, barely up to her own chin. And she was also very slight, her fingers were long and spidery. All in all she looked like the other street rat children that Lucilla had grown up with before coming here- malnourished and waif thin.

"I never heard a Companion speak before," Lucilla said before she could stop herself.

"People say that all the time, but Jereth speaks to everyone," Sidra said, her mouth pinching together in a strange looking frown. "It's a bit convenient because then I'm not always translating everything, but he makes up for it in other ways."

_I have no idea of what you're talking__about_, the Companion said, moving back into the stall. _I love you, Chosen, but right now you_ reek.

"Your drooling didn't help much," Sidra said in Shin'a'in, making another face.

"Let's go then." Lucilla felt like laughing. "Uh, how do you-"

Sidra held out her hand. "Just lead me this way. I'll run my hand along the wall. That's how I did it back before Jereth came for me."

Lucilla took her hand and led her out just as Sidra had said, pulling the girl along while she kept straight by letting her hand touch the wall. Some servants stared, but most people were in their rooms; it was technically candlemarks after Lucilla was supposed to have been in her room herself.

They walked in silence, even though Lucilla bristled w/ questions. She didn't want to ask them though, unsure if they would be rude. And besides, Sidra seemed to be more interested her surroundings. Twice she stopped because of a statue or window- Sidra ran her hands all over both before letting Lucilla lead her on again.

When they finally reached the bathing rooms, she helped Sidra fill a bathtub and showed her where the soap and scrub brushes were. The girl was so eager to start that she began stripping before Lucilla could turn her back. The Bardic trainee muttered something about finding her clean clothes and fled, ducking out of the room.

She found a servant outside and asked him to help her find something for Sidra. He disappeared for a few minutes and reappeared with a shirt, breeches and a long thin cloth for Sidra's eyes. Lucilla thanked him and cautiously re-entered the chamber.

She found Sidra scrambling to reach something from her clothes, only to give up and simply stand w/ her back turned Lucilla. The trainee came forward and saw that one of Sidra's arms was crossed over her eyes, shielding them from view.

"I brought you a new eyewrap," Lucilla told her. Sidra held out her free arm and Lucilla placed the cloth in her hand. Sidra quickly pulled it in place but not before Lucilla saw the gaping black holes. Sidra tied the cloth off and ducked back down in the water up to her nose, blowing a few nervous bubbles.

"I remember my first bath here. It was like heaven," Lucilla remarked. A silence fell as Sidra lazily washed, obviously trying to make the bath last as long as possible.

"You can ask, if you want," Sidra suddenly said, leaning up against the side of the tub.

Lucilla knew she meant about her eyes, but instead she asked, "Are you Shin'a'in or Hawkbrother? You're whiter than Darkwind, but you talk like the Shin'a'in."

"I think I'm part Shin'a'in. I'm not really sure. I was a slave before Jereth came." She blew a few more bubbles. "One of the others taught me the language though. It's the first one that I speak in. I have to think about speaking in this tongue, or Tayledras." She tilted her head a bit. "Are you a Bard?"

"A trainee, but I'm not very good. I probably won't make it," Lucilla said.

"Why?"

It was such a simple question and one people asked her a lot. Yet, Lucilla found herself actually answering it instead of evading. Her mouth started speaking and then she was crying. It felt good actually, to have someone to talk to instead of trying to muddle through on her own. She ended up clinging to the side of the tub with Sidra's arms about her, sobbing into the smaller girl's wet shoulder.

"I have no clue what to do!" Lucilla cried, pulling back and rubbing her nose.

"That's the way I felt when I came here too. I'm an empath- it's how I view the world. So when we came to Haven, I got a bit overwhelmed- well a lot overwhelmed. I saw it coming too; I knew I'd end up in a trance."

"What did you do?" Lucilla asked.

"I endured it. I really didn't know I was that strong. But I saw it coming and decided to let it happen, because it was either that or run away."

"Why did you?"

Sidra seemed to think for a moment, her cheek resting against Lucilla's forehead. "Because all in all, I wanted to be here. I was scared, but this was where I believed I was supposed to be."

"I'm not sure I'm supposed to be here," Lucilla whispered.

"Do you want to be?" Sidra asked. Lucilla nodded. "Then this is where you're supposed to be."


	12. Chapter 12

They clung to her like strangling vines, all vying for her attention. Sidra very gently extracted them, strengthened the holes in the shield she'd finally been able to erect. She wondered if this would happen every time she woke up or if it would become faster and easier.

Eventually, the vine-like minds that threatened to hold her became just background shadows. The deafening sound of their thoughts and emotions slowed to whispers. Her center and ground held and she felt a thrill of pride for her new skill, as well as surprise that she had solved the problem so quickly.

When it had first happened, the onslaught of outside influence, she'd despaired, had been so sure she'd never be able to weather it. Sidra knew it would take a long time if she managed push everything back enough for her to think like herself. It had only taken a month- what did that mean?

_It means you're capable_, Jereth interjected. _How are you feeling?_

_My head hurts and I'm hungry, but otherwise alright_, she answered, turning over. Her hand encountered something that was not a blanket or pillow- it took her a moment to realize it was Lucilla, still asleep. She remembered the girl helping her last night with the bath and clothes, and then somehow they'd ended up back in her room.

She 'looked' Lucilla over, trying to see if last night had made any sort of difference. The trainee was less prickly, and less dim than before, strengthened by Sidra's immediate acceptance of her. Her loneliness had been such a deep hole that Sidra had been almost afraid to leave her alone, her fear and depression like quicksand eating away at any sort of courage the girl might have once possessed.

If Lucilla hadn't needed her so badly, Sidra wasn't sure she would have taken to her so quickly. It was easy to help those who really needed it; it was an entirely different thing to make friends w/ someone who was already capable. Like Featherdance and Darksky- Sidra had felt so awkward around them at first, shy and afraid of how she'd look to them. Lucilla had been so desperate that Sidra didn't have time to think about being friendly, she just was.

And Lucilla wasn't the only one. Here, there were a lot of angry, depressed and frightened people just in the Palace Collegia. She resisted the urge to go and find the nearest one; if she left Lucilla, the girl would think she abandoned her.

So Sidra sat up on the bed and patiently waited for Lucilla to wake up. The poor trainee was exhausted, having released a good bit of pent up emotion last night. Sidra hoped it wouldn't be the last time she did so- some emotions had to bleed out to be relieved regularly.

A bell rang somewhere, making Sidra jump and Lucilla wake up suddenly.

"Oh no, I'm late," the trainee groaned. Sidra felt her jump off the bed and heard her rustling around.

"Late for what?" she asked.

She felt Lucilla's surprise and relief. "For a second there, I thought you'd been some sort of dream," the trainee said, sitting back down on the bed.

"Nope, all real." Sidra smiled a half smile.

"Do you- I mean- have you been to any of your classes yet?" Lucilla asked.

Sidra shook her head. "You're the first person in Haven that I've met. My trance started about a mile outside of the city and I suppose Jereth brought me in."

Lucilla was silent for a minute. "Then hang my classes," she said finally. "You need to see the Dean. Come on, I'll bring you to him."

"What's a dean?"

"He's the head of the Heraldic Collegium. You were supposed to have met him the day you came in, I think. I don't know much about how the Herald trainees do things, but I think he'll be our best bet," she explained. Sidra felt Lucilla take her hand and allowed herself to be pulled upright.

They didn't move for a few moments and finally Sidra said, "What?"

Lucilla giggled. "It's just- well. Those clothes are too big for you and they make you look like a doll."

"What's a doll?"

That certainly took Lucilla back. Sidra sighed.

Lucilla seemed to shake it off. "Dolls are toys. They're like little miniature people. Only little children play with them." She led Sidra across the room and to the doorway.

"But why would I look like one?"

"You're tiny. Didn't you know? How old are you anyway?"

"Jereth says I'm sixteen."

"Really? You look like you're ten! Or maybe eleven." Sidra heard the door open. She also got hit with a blast of sudden noise coming from people in the hallway.

"Hey Loo-" called a jeering voice that suddenly cut itself off. Sidra heard someone else whisper, "Hey, it's the Ghost!"

Lucilla went from friendly to hostile in just under a second. Obviously these people weren't people she enjoyed being around. And under their surprise, they seemed to view Lucilla with even less respect and understanding. The trainee yanked Sidra to the left, her glowering mood radiating out like the heat from a fire.

"What's a ghost?" Sidra asked quietly.

"That's what they call you," Lucilla answered.

"Are you okay?"

"No. Can we not talk about it?" Sidra obeyed as they walked, falling silent and listening to all the whispers that passed by. Eventually, Lucilla stopped dragging Sidra and slowed her pace, her grip loosening to something a bit less claw like. Her anger fell into sadness. Sidra got the sick impression that Lucilla was also used to this situation, that it was some sort of routine for her. She respected the girl's wishes, but had to bite her tongue a few times to keep from saying anything.

_Jereth, what am I going to do? She needs help_, Sidra called.

_First let her help you. I know it's not what you're going to want to hear, but now that you're in the Collegium, you're going to have a pretty busy schedule, learning about your Gifts and what it means to be a Herald. You're going to have to budget your time_, Jereth answered.

_But-_

_No buts. Besides, it wouldn't be good for her if you followed her all over the place just to remind her she has you, would it?_

_I wish there was more I could do._

_Chances are you'll have classes with the Bardic trainees anyway. You're too strong for the Heralds to train that Gift. You'll see her again, and then maybe you could do your Bardic homework with her. She needs a practice audience anyway, right?_

_I love you_, Sidra called back.

_I know_.

All of a sudden, they stopped. Sidra kept going and bumped into Lucilla's shoulder as the trainee knocked on something. "Sorry," Lucilla said, letting out a giggle. Hopefully she saw Sidra's answering smile, though it was more in relief than an answer. She didn't want to see her so down.

"Come in," a voice called.

"Dean Teren?" Lucilla opened the door.

"Yes?" the voice called again. "You have a message for me?"

"No, I have something else." Sidra felt herself pulled into another room. Inside there was only one person, an older male. He was busy, only half concentrating on his visitors. There was also something wrong w/ his aura, a blurry part that seemed to fit somewhere else.

"Oh, you found Sidra. Uh- sit her in the chair, I'll bring her back to her Companion after I finish this," the man said.

"Is he a Herald?" Sidra whispered to Lucilla. The man's concentration left his work and settled wholly on the two girls. Sidra reacted by putting herself between Lucilla and the door- imposing Lucilla between herself and the stranger.

"Yes, he's the Dean," Lucilla answered, stepping aside. "His name is Teren. Hey wait, how did you know he was a Herald?"

"He's all blurry like Jereth," Sidra answered, trying to stand behind her again. "Because we're connected, it blurs the aura." Lucilla kept moving around, making it harder for her to hide.

"Sidra, when did you wake up?" As much as she didn't want to, it was beyond Sidra's better judgment not to answer the adult in charge.

"Last night," she answered quietly. "I think. I can't tell time very well."

"After hours. I found her in the stable and took her to get a bath." Lucilla's voice sounded much braver than her own. "She stayed in my room for the night."

"Would you- er-"

"Lucilla," the trainee supplied.

"Please would you have a servant call Herald Talia for me, Lucilla? I will write a note to your teacher explaining why you were late." A dismissal. Sidra went cold. Now she was the one who would be alone.

For a second, it felt like Jereth was nuzzling her cheek and she relaxed. No, he was here, always here. Lucilla helped her to the chair and she sat. Lucilla gave her hand a squeeze before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Who is Herald Talia?" Sidra asked.

"The Queen's Own. She's an empath and has been watching you closely," the Dean answered. He was closer than before, almost right in front of her.

"Why?"

"Because of your condition. She's been a little bit worried but the Companions insisted you'd be able to pull through without her help."

"Jereth says I was gone for a month."

"Yes."

"What's a ghost?"

The Dean chuckled. "I have met my share of curious youngsters, but An'desha was right- there is not a question you will not ask."

"You know An'desha?" she asked, shifting in her seat.

"He used to live here. He wrote and said you were coming. He also gave us a description of your Gifts, although I think we underestimated their potency."

"They got stronger the further we traveled," Sidra said. She pulled her feet up onto the chair, crossing her legs beneath her thighs.

"Was the journey difficult on you?"

She thought about it. "No and yes. I don't have anything to compare it to. I think it was probably worse on Jereth. He was the one who had to find all the food and shelter."

"But what about your Gifts? How was it traveling with them?"

"It was all right when Jereth and I were alone. But when we reached Haven and when we stayed in the k'Vala Vale, I had a bit of trouble. What's a ghost?"

The Dean laughed. "A ghost is a vision of a person who is dead. They only really exist in stories."

"Lucilla said people called me that. Why?"

The Dean didn't answer. He seemed to be thinking but not about her question. Finally, he said, "While you were- what were you? Asleep? In a trance? Well, either way, there were times when you would walk about. Wander the halls."

"Really? I don't remember much, except the emotions and thoughts."

"Stories say that ghosts can float and walk through walls. I suppose you reminded the students of the stories when you wandered around…" He drifted off because suddenly Sidra was obviously not paying attention.

There was someone outside the door, another Herald but this one was a woman. She also felt different from the Dean, and Sidra suddenly realized that she was an empath, just like herself and a powerful one too. She knocked and entered the room, coming to stand next to Sidra.

"I see she's spending the day with you," the woman said. "Did you want me for something?"

Sidra turned her head upwards in the woman's direction and said, "Hello. They call me the Ghost."


	13. Chapter 13

"I really don't know why," the girl went on, shrugging. "I like An'desha's nicknames better." Her statements were quirky and matter-of-fact, with just enough emotion behind them to not sound dead-pan.

"And what does he call you?" Talia asked.

"Starlight, starlet, little star- he says I glow," she said simply, her head bowing again.

So here was Sidra, not the empty shell that had been seen floating down corridors and across the field. The first impression she got was that the poor thing was not at all comfortable being around either Teren or herself though her voice was neutral and diplomatic. She was cautious and unsure, yet not as confused as Talia had predicted she'd be.

"Well, you do seem to," Talia agreed, leaning up against the desk. It was true; with the girl's white hair, and pale skin she seemed positively ethereal, as if she was a star come down in mortal form. Even her lips were the palest pink, making Talia wonder what color her eyes would have been. The oversized Grays she was wearing only added to the image.

"I don't remember the stars," Sidra said quietly. Her answer was honest and there was no hint of 'fishing' as Talia called it, meaning she wasn't looking for any sort of pity or sympathy. "I don't think I was ever allowed to see them."

"Do you remember seeing at all?" Talia asked.

"Very little. I went blind a long time ago."

Her statements were automatic as if she were afraid not to answer the questions she was asked. And her discretion about her own past seemed a bit lax, as if she wasn't sure what she should and should not talk about. If Talia had asked such personal questions of any other newcomer, she might not have received the same sort of answers. Not so soon anyway.

Talia watched Sidra as Teren began to ask her about her education. It became quite clear that Sidra had had very little schooling, and none of it was by any means conventional. She had never learned to read or write, basic mathematics was beyond her comprehension, and her knowledge of history was lacking. What she did know had been taught to her on the road by her Companion, and she was able to recite most of the things he had taught her perfectly.

She was very frank and still as she was questioned, slightly relaxing a bit. Fairly soon, though, it was obvious that her attention was straying from Teren- the next bell had rung and trainees were making their way to their next classes. Talia realized that the girl wasn't fully shielded but she hesitated to do anything about it. The past month had had Talia thinking about Sidra's powers and her handicap, and she had realized early on that Sidra was probably used to using her powers to make her way around. Fully shielding her would render her truly blind.

The trainees settled down but Sidra stayed tense. To Talia, she was obviously itchy, unused to so much attention focused on her and wanted very much to escape. At least Sidra was versed and trained to keep her inward thoughts from showing in her body language - Teren probably had no idea that she was focused on anything but him.

Pretty soon, Teren began going around in circles with his questions- he was trying to stall while he thought about what to do with the girl. Chores were out of the question, her classes would start tomorrow, not today, and she couldn't be left to wander on her own. The circumstances of her arrival had left her without a mentor to guide her through the Collegia and Talia wasn't sure plucking one out of class would be the right course.

So instead she finally said, "Teren, let me take Sidra on a tour of the Collegia and then take her to have her Gifts tested. There are a few people I think she should meet today, like the griffons and maybe Altra." Teren looked visibly relieved and Talia gave him a knowing smile.


	14. Chapter 14

There was a stillness to this place that Sidra had never felt before. Even the waystation had not been so quiet. Sidra stopped walking, straining to listen with all her senses.

"What?" Talia asked. Sidra could have flinched; the echo of her voice sounded so harsh.

"I-" she whispered back. On a sudden impulse, she let go of Talia's hand and removed the soft shoes and stockings they'd given her early that morning. The stone beneath her bare feet was cool and comforting and she breathed a brief sigh of relief. "Okay," she said quietly, reaching out for Talia's hand.

"Why did you do that?" Talia asked, whispering now too. She took Sidra's hand as she shrugged.

They began walking again, the scraping of Talia's boots sounding ten times louder than it should. There was sunlight streaming through the windows; she could feel the warmth. Was it warmer than usual? It wrapped around her like a heavy shawl.

"If I wanted to, could I meditate here?" she asked Talia, her voice never wavering from its hushed tone.

"You'd have to ask Karal, but I don't think he'd mind," the woman answered, puzzled but also amused.

"Have I been here before?"

Talia chuckled softly. "It was one of your favorite haunts while you were in your trance. I can't tell you how many times Karal brought you back across the Field from this place."

"Do you think he'll like me? I want him to like me- An'desha said he was so nice." Sidra was babbling. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so nervous. It was so strange because this place- the Sun Shrine- was so warm and inviting. It seemed to want to assuage her fears.

A flash of light suddenly came slinking into the room. Talia felt her jerk and asked her what was wrong, but Sidra was too intrigued to answer. It was like a Companion and yet different- small to a Companion's large, white hot to Jereth's cool and calm presence.

Sidra knelt down onto her knees, crouching to the same height as the newcomer. "Well aren't you just warm and fuzzy," she called. The light came closer, so close she could just reach out and touch it. Then she laughed, "Well, that's because you actually are warm and fuzzy!" The cat- the Firecat- pushed his face against her own, purring like he was bigger than the griffins she'd been introduced to that morning. His fur was soft, silky and short, and he leaned into her scratches with enthusiasm.

_Oh I like her_, she heard him say and her stomach suddenly sank when she realized he wasn't talking to her. _She is more than An'desha said._

Sidra didn't hear the reply which made her both confused and relieved. She did, however 'look' around and noticed another newcomer but this one stayed away, obviously just observing. The first thing that struck her was that he was like Jereth and An'desha- connected to some Other thing, he and the Firecat. Her nerves calmed in an instant- he seemed the perfect embodiment of the Shrine, warm, inviting, and forgiving. Nice did not begin to describe him and now she knew why the Sworn One had taken to him so readily. An'desha hadn't told her his whole story, only that he'd been touched by blood path magic and had been wounded in his very soul. Karal had helped heal him _without_ magic; if she had doubted the story, she definitely didn't now.

_Will you tell her?_ the Firecat asked, pulling away from her hands for a moment.

"Tell me what?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Damn her curious nature!

But neither Karal nor Altra seemed surprised. "Well it seems An'desha's hunch was right. He said there might be a chance you could hear bondbirds and even Companions." His voice was low and pleasant to listen to, his tone a bit disappointed. She hoped it was because he wished that she couldn't hear the Firecat and other Companions, not because she wasn't what he was expecting.

"You can hear Altra?" Talia asked.

Sidra nodded miserably. "I didn't mean to. I was really hoping that I couldn't- Jereth said it might cause trouble."

Talia's mood darkened for a second and Sidra's stomach dropped. So she was a liability- how could anyone hold any sort of private conversation if she was around? What if she couldn't control it?

_Don't make me come in there after you. It's just another wall for you to climb over_, Jereth told her.

_A pretty big one_, she replied grumpily.

Altra rubbed his wet nose against her own, momentarily distracting her. She rubbed the sensitive spot just below his ear and he started purring again.

"Oh no," Talia said. Sidra heard her sit down next to her on the floor. 'I think you're spoiling him."

"He's already spoiled," Karal said, coming closer as well. His gait was much quieter than Talia's- he knew how loud little sounds could be in this place. He sat down somewhere nearby, Altra abandoned Sidra for him. "I have to say, it's nice to see you and actually be able to talk to you. The other times, you were a bit…"

"Distracted," Sidra said quietly, bringing her knees up to her chest. "I think I probably knew you were here. Or at least I was drawn to Altra, I think."

_I am a magnet_, the Firecat clarified.

"What's a magnet?"

Karal paused. "You'd have to ask Natoli, I think. She can explain it better than I can."

"What were you going to tell me? Altra asked you if you would tell me something." Sidra hadn't forgotten Altra's question.

Karal hesitated again and then said diplomatically, "I think that's something you and I should discuss another day, in private."

_It has something to do w/ An'desha, doesn't it?_ she asked Altra in her Mindvoice. Somehow she knew this was a delicate subject, one he didn't really want to talk about in front of anyone else.

_It's complicated and has a very long explanation. There'll be time later_, the Firecat answered.

Sidra accepted that and changed the subject. "Do you think I could come in here and meditate sometimes? The quiet- it shuts everything out."

"This place is always open to anyone," the Sunpriest said quietly.

"We can't stay very long today," Talia warned. "Your Gifts still need to be tested."

"Just for a few minutes?" Karal asked before Sidra could. A suspicious shadow passed over Talia before she answered.

"All right. I'll just rearrange my schedule later," the Queen's Own finally said.

"If it's so much trouble, we can go," Sidra told her. "I know there's things to do."

"No, no. It's just I was planning on coming back but now I won't have to," Talia assured her.

_She's a Sunpriest, like Karal,_ Jereth told Sidra. _The proper time for her to come for her vigil is high sun, but she can't always make it because of her other duties. So Karal told her just to make sure she comes before the sun begins to set._

_Well that's nice,_ she answered a bit distractedly. She had just become aware that all three of her companions were staring at her.

"You can go," she told Talia. "Do whatever priestly duties you have to do. I'll just find a place in the corner and meditate."

"I don't think I've ever met a youth who liked meditation as much as you," Talia remarked.

"I feel more focused after I do," Sidra explained. "I used to do it for hours when Jereth and I were on the road."

"I have never been able to meditate on a horse, even a Companion," Karal put in. "Here, you can do it on the bench over here."

Talia helped Sidra stand and led her to the bench, where the girl crossed her legs beneath her and began to regulate her breathing. She heard Talia and Karal move off, but Altra jumped up and sat down next to her. He was bigger than a normal cat, big enough that his head was the same height as hers. She knew because he began sniffing her hair.

_You smell like horse drool_, he said, pawing a stray lock of hair.

Jereth snickered.


	15. Chapter 15

The House of Healing. Sidra didn't need Talia to tell her that this was that place. She could feel the sick, the injured. The desperate energy but also the comfort. There was trust here, and hope. The certain balanced the uncertain.

She stood outside a doorway, her nose pressed to the cold wood of the doorframe. Inside there was a man, a Herald. He was fighting for his life, he was tired, but he clung to his Companion, unwilling to die yet. His determination was what stopped her from stepping into the room- it was like a beacon that kept her at bay. Only his healers were allowed to see him so weak.

"Sidra?" Talia asked in a hushed voice. "Sidra, this is Healer Frey. She will be your primary teacher in the Healer Collegia." Sidra didn't move from the frame for a few minutes, until finally she couldn't ignore the growing concern in the two women behind her.

"He has a lot of pride," she said quietly, trying to explain. Slowly, she backed away from the doorway. "He wants to stay. He won't, will he?" The healer give no answer, but then, Sidra didn't really need one. "Such a lonely thing."

"His Companion will be with him," Frey whispered.

"Not in the room. Or the bed. They can't hold each other," Sidra murmured.

"We can't move him," Frey explained. "With his injuries, he wouldn't make it in time."

Sidra nodded and when Talia reached out, she let herself be led away. A minute or two passed before Frey spoke again, this time explaining the types of things she would be learning.

* * *

"You'll have my class all day two days a week," Bard Malic said brightly. He was young, energetic, and blazingly positive. He was nearly a complete opposite of Healer Frey, who was elderly, practical, and far more realistic. Not that she was depressing in any sort, but she was not inclined to sugar coat her words as Malic would, just to spare Sidra's view of her.

"We'll focus on instruments one day, and then singing the next," Malic went on. "Have you played at all?"

"No, sir," Sidra answered, with a shake of her head. "Lucilla let me hold her lute once but other than that, I haven't even touched one."

"You've met Lucilla? I discovered her in Haven! She has a nice, deep voice for a girl. She'll eventually grow into it. Would you mind if I asked you to sing a bit for me now?"

"Oh Bard Malic, I'm not sure that would be a good idea," Talia protested politely.

"I think I could for a little bit. I practiced on the road," Sidra offered.

"Are you sure?" Talia asked.

"Is there something wrong?" Malic asked.

"Her Gifts are a bit mashed together," Talia explained. "They mix with her Bardic Gift as she sings."

"Most often, I heal," Sidra put on. "But Jereth and I figured out how to pull back most of it so it doesn't overwhelm everyone around me."

"Well there you go! Give it a whirl!" Malic said encouragingly.

Sidra took a deep breath and sang a few stanzas of a song the Tayledras had taught her before she'd left them. It felt good to be singing again.

"Are you sure they said you have the Bardic Gift?" Malic asked, confused. "I'm sorry; I didn't hear any trance of it. At all."

_Just a bit Sidra_, Jereth murmured like he was right beside her ear.

_But-_

_You can. Try_.

Sidra took another deep breath and started the song again. This time, she loosened her hold just a tiny bit. The magic pressed- it didn't like to be fettered so close. Abruptly, she stopped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry, I can't-" she pressed a hand to her mouth as the magic spilled out even as she spoke.

"Well," Malic muttered, his voice sounding wet. "Well, there it is then."

Sidra didn't answer while Talia apologized. She reached out for Jereth and he came, breathing with her as if she were leaning against him. Together, they carefully filled in the cracks that threatened her shielding.

Even when they were done, Sidra still shook, grabbing onto the window seat that she sat on like it was the only solid thing. She felt Talia sit beside her and to her surprise, Malic knelt in front of her.

"It's all right," he said. She felt his hand touch her own. "That's a common enough occurrence; most children sent here do the same thing. I have to say though, I have never felt a Gift so strong, nor seen a green trainee with such control."

"It's no control," she whispered. "I couldn't slow it down."

"I meant because you knew when to stop," he explained. "Other students can get so caught up when they are first tested that they need to be physically brought back into focus. All the greatest bards have before and sometimes after their formal training. You stopped yourself. That is a sort of control. And so is knowing that what control you have is not quite adequate."

There was absolutely no fear in him. He was so full of hope that she very nearly gave into it.

"She'll do. Though I might have a mage or a healer sit in with us on our singing days. If your Gifts are meshed, they might stay meshed and that'll need some special training." She heard him stand and move to leave. "Be careful with her now. She won't have to sing for her supper, but all the same, she'll need her hands. I'll see you again in a few days, Sidra."

She nodded, hoping that he'd see. Talia leaned in close and put her arm around her.

"Well, you're going to make life interesting around here! More so than I had ever thought before," the Queen's Own said, with a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Is that a bad thing?" Sidra asked.

"No, no. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next!" She pulled Sidra to her feet. "Let's go get something to eat and then back to the griffins. I'll have to hand you off to Dirk, I'm afraid. There are things I have to take care of today."

"I'm sorry to be so much trouble," Sidra told her. "Who is Dirk," she asked hastily, cutting off Talia's protests.

* * *

She could see why Talia and Dirk were lifebonded. He was the perfect compliment to her in every way, right down to the way his voice sounded. He was patient and gentle, moving at a slower pace than Talia's brisk walk. Sidra was glad for the change to be honest- the whole day had gone by in a whirlwind and she hadn't really had time to store all that had happened away in her mind yet.

"You've met the griffins? Teren told me Talia wanted to take you there," Dirk asked.

She nodded. "This morning. The grifflets are energetic, but Treyvan and Hydona are nice. They certainly have a lot of pillows."

Dirk laughed. "Yes they do. I think they specifically requested them when they first arrived. Easier than regular furniture. Speaking of, we have a room made up for you. It will be your permanent room and you won't have to share."

"I don't mind sharing," she said, even though she secretly hoped he wouldn't change his mind.

He didn't. "No, I think it would be easier on you if you were alone. And that aside, your room isn't with the other Heralds; it's actually closer to the center of the Collegia, so everything will be in better reach, so to speak."

"You really don't have to-"

He cut her off by putting a hand on her shoulder. "We adjust. And if Talia and I are right, it will be easier on you if you're in the middle of everything."

"What do you mean?" Sidra asked, puzzled.

"All of us Heralds are Chosen for a reason," Dirk explained. "There have been other cases where the reasons are evident- Herald Shavri, a healer who was Chosen as Queen's Own to aid her ailing king. Herald Lavan Firestorm, who's Gift held back an entire Karsite attack. It is not often so obvious but-" He broke off and Sidra waited. He was clearly trying to think of a way to explain.

"Since the Mage Storms and the founding of the Mage's Collegium, there has been an increase in the magic in this area," he finally said. "So far, it hasn't been something we can't handle, but Talia and even Elspeth and Darkwind are worried that something disastrous could happen. Tempers could run high and someone could do something stupid by accident or something clever on purpose. What I'm trying to say, that a person with your Gifts would be invaluable here. You see what we cannot, you seek to sooth what we might not catch in time. I'm not saying you could stop things from happening, but a Herald like you could help be part of the solution when the time comes. Talia is our strongest empath but even she can't be everywhere and she has other duties."

Something seemed to click into place. Suddenly, Sidra had a goal she could strive for, a job she actually could imagine doing. Hadn't her magic been trying to pull her in that direction all along? Hadn't she felt an instinct to be the shoulder, the support, and maybe even the substitute for those who needed it, just for a moment or two?

"You make me sound so important," she breathed, nearly overcome with wonder.

"Every Herald is important," Dirk answered and there was definitely a smile in his voice


	16. Chapter 16

"Hey, who made your Grays?"

Sidra frowned, smoothing a hand over her long surcoat. It had been laid out of her this morning over her chair, just like her clothes the day before, and every day since the day after Dirk had first settled her in her room. She was not sure who was doing her the favor, but since her room was also kept so neat, she assumed it was one of the servants.

"Is there something wrong with them?"

"They're just different, that's all. The trainee uniforms are all the same, except for color, but yours aren't like mine," Lucilla answered, gently tugging on one of Sidra's sleeves and fingering the embroidery on the cuffs. "See?" She took one of Sidra's hands and guided it to her own sleeve. Sidra studied it for a moment and then realized what she meant- there was no embroidery on the cuffs. Lucilla allowed Sidra to feel the edges of her tunic and she found that the pattern that decorated her surcoat was missing as well.

"They're little butterflies," Lucilla muttered, tracing the pattern over Sidra's shoulder. "And they're in Collegium colors too. Red for the bards, green for the healers, and yellow for mages. The rest of you is gray- that's the Heralds."

"Someone picked it out for me," Sidra confessed.

"Well they did a pretty good job. In that get-up, you're less likely to get snagged on things you bump against or trip over your breeches or something," Lucilla explained.

"I never thought about it before." It was true, but now that she had brought it to Sidra's attention, it did seem that she had had an easier time moving around, and yet she felt more covered up than she had ever been before. Soft, tight but thick breeches covered her legs and were tucked into soft, comfortable boots. Her sleeveless surcoat was only knee length and slit up the sides to give her free movement. Underneath was another thick shirt, tight enough to keep her sleeves in order and a belt around her waist held the whole outfit in place. All the layers made Sidra feel warm in the cold and it also made her feel shielded. Before, her master had made her wear loose, skimpy clothes, sometimes just a simple wrap of fabric. She couldn't remember how many times she'd tripped, gotten stuck, or felt over exposed.

"They're pretty. I like fashions and Haven is the best place to see all the latest ones," Lucilla was going on, circling behind Sidra's back. "Hey, even your eye band and hair tie match!"

"Do they?" Sidra felt someone or something creeping at the edges of her awareness- it slid behind Lucilla and into a deeper dark that she assumed was the doorway to her room. Sidra grabbed Lucilla and gently moved her away from the spot.

"Something wrong?" Lucilla asked.

"Something just went into there," Sidra answered, pointing.

"I don't see anything," Lucilla commented, moving away. "It was probably just someone passing by. It's almost time for-" The bell rang overhead, cutting her statement off. "Ah, now we'll both be late!" She grabbed Sidra's hand and yanked, obviously taking no chances.

_Well, you do have a habit of getting distracted from things you're supposed to be worrying about_, Jereth drawled. If he could have seen, Sidra would have stuck her tongue out at him.

She managed to put it out of her mind during her classes, focusing instead on the boredom she had to endure. The history of Valdemar was fascinating, but her teacher kept forgetting she could not do the busy work the other students did to keep themselves busy- she couldn't write the essays or read the books and was usually left sitting alone. Jereth helped as best he could, lecturing her quietly on the same subject the teacher had just assigned so that she at least was somewhat entertained.

The etiquette class was only a bit better since they often had to demonstrate what they were learning, but she soon found she was far more advanced than many of the common born trainees. Her master's toys had always been well trained in poise and grace- he liked them to look pretty as they served, no matter what their purpose was. Sidra naturally sat straight without slouching, she knew where to lay her hands to the best advantage, and she knew how to curtsey or bow, depending on the person being addressed. She wished the teacher would advance into the finer pleasantries of the court, but it seemed for now that her purpose in the class was to be an example for the less capable students. At least they appreciated her demonstrations- it was easier for them to see what they were supposed to do when it was someone their own age doing it.

This was the only day out of her week that would be spent in these classes though; the rest would be with the healers or the mages, except for the two days with Bard Malic. So it really didn't seem necessary to complain, although Jereth did make a comment that she should talk to her history teacher.

Finally, it was time for her to escape. She made her way to Companion's Field as quickly as she could, thinking about nothing but Jereth. She hadn't been to see him in days, having been caught up in her classes, settling in, and meeting important people.

His hair was like silk under her fingers. He smelled like horse and magic, blowing it all over her clothes and in her hair. Someone had groomed him, his mane untangled and free of burs. All that she could feel of Haven quietly fell away, leaving only Jereth- it felt like there were arms around her, holding her close and blocking out everything that wasn't important.

He was unsaddled, but she hardly cared as he bent down so she could mount. Sidra wound her hands in his long mane and gasped as he took off in a brisk run. He was fairly giddy- he loved to run and he loved to show her, jumping a fallen tree limb with ease. Her own body melted into his, matching his movements, and for a bit, it almost felt like she was running with him, as if she were just as he was, a powerful being built to run and fight, for love and support, no matter what the cost.

Eventually, he had to slow because she was out of breath but trying to laugh at the same time. He whickered along with her and spun in circles, making her laugh harder. Soon though, he came to a complete stop, bending his neck.

She smelt the water even before he said, _Now I am thirsty!_

_Well, that's what you get for showing off_- "Ahh!" He cut her off by rearing up on his hind legs for a second before continuing his drink.


	17. Chapter 17

Bluehawk tried his very best not to scowl as he walked down the worn path in Companion's Field. He tried to remind himself that this trip was educational, that it was important not only to his people and his family, but also to himself. The Heralds and their country were allies- it was good to understand the people one was associated to.

The thought didn't help the homesickness that was bringing down his mood. This place was interesting but it wasn't home. He missed his ekele in k'Leshya- he'd spent most of his life there. Was this how his parents had felt when they'd left their home in the Haighlei lands? He didn't remember White Gryphon all that much, but he did know that his mother and father had loved living there. How had they adjusted to their new surroundings? To leaving everything behind and starting new?

The thought gave him a bit of comfort even though he secretly hoped he wouldn't have to go that far. He could return to his ekele eventually right? That was where he felt he should be.

Still, this visit was essential. His parents thought so, and so did Moonflower, his mentor and teacher. She was a great kestra'chern and believed that coming here would better both of their talents. Their craft was based on the perception of people- how better to advance one's skills but to practice on people that were unfamiliar?

So far, both he and his mentor had just been observing. It was foolish to try and utilize his skills blindly. Yet it was the waiting period that he'd found unbearable. He had next to nothing to keep his mind off what he had left. He was also having trouble keeping his unhappiness from Moonflower, who had begun shadowing him. He'd managed to loose her today, but who knew when she'd peek over his shoulder again?

Bluehawk stopped and leaned up against a tree, running curious fingers over the brown bark. It was cracked and thick, built to withstand snow, whatever snow was. He'd only read about the flora and fauna in Valdemar, as well as the people and their culture- cultures-

The sound of someone playing a pipe suddenly reached his ears. It was a soft sound, some distance away, but he had too much curiosity in his nature to ignore it. He left the tree and made his way through the tall grass and companion trees.

Soon he found the source- there was a young woman about his own age sitting with her back against a tree trunk, playing the flute he'd heard. She was dressed in typical Valdemar fare, a simple tunic, undershirt, and breeches, all colored the same shade of rust. Her dark hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense plait coiled around her head.

She wasn't alone. There was another girl, a tiny thing dressed in an ethereal shade of gray. Her clothes were different than the first, a three quarter sleeved tunic with a matching, tighter undershirt. Her breeches were looser and flowing, and even from far away, Bluehawk could tell that the whole outfit was newer and better made that the rust one.

The gray girl was in the middle of their little clearing, moving in delicate and slow gestures. The music was simple but elegant, and the dancer's moves were perfectly matched to it. He watched and realized that the dance was actually a story; it was in the way the girl reached for the heavens, the way she crouched low and spun her arms.

He saw a birth ordered by the sun itself, the product blessed and watched over by agents of a god. The girl's life was filled with secrets and peril, with training and wisdom, until finally one day, the sun shone down bright again and crowned her as the highest of its ranks.

Bluehawk wasn't an idiot- he knew the story of Solaris, even if he didn't believe all the miracles which supposedly happened the day she was made Son of the Sun. There was a fleeting moment as he watched that he believed all the rumors- that staves had actually burst into bloom and flame, statues had moved, lightning had killed the heretics. There was a depth in the whole performance, an intensity that made him think that it must all be true- why else would it seem so sure, so definite and real?

He would have believed if they hadn't been dressed so. The piper played as if the song was a part of her, and the dancer moved as if she had witnessed it all happen. But both were obviously not Karsite, dressed in Valdemarian clothes.

Eventually, the song ended and they both stopped, the dancer ending in a flourish that paid homage to the shining sun. She stood straight and stretched her shoulders with a tiny laugh. There was something wrong with her face- at first he'd thought her white hair covered most of it, but then he realized that there was a cloth covering her eyes. Did all Valdemarian dancers practice with their eyes covered? Was the idea to make them more aware of their bodies?

He stayed hidden as they started to speak. "I just learned that song yesterday," the piper said, leaning back against the tree. "You didn't tell me you could dance."

"I only gathered my courage this morning. I think it's these clothes," the dancer mused, tugging on a sleeve of her undershirt. "They aren't as tight as the others."

"You were afraid to dance?"

"My master used to play music. It was chaotic, no tunes, just notes. He would have me dance to it. If I was not graceful, I was punished. If I did not keep up, I was punished. He would laugh at me. It was his favorite game, to ruin my concentration. I like the music here much better," the dancer added with a shrug. "I did not know that you played so well."

"I've practiced a lot," the piper murmured, fingering her instrument.

Bluehawk frowned. How strong the dancer was, obviously a freed slave, to realize that her former and current situations were different. He'd seen others who expected everywhere to be the same, that the shadows of the past would continually mare the present. She was pained by her old life, but she also recognized that she was no longer there. It was the piper who was weak, unsure of herself. Yet she glowed at the compliment. How long had the poor thing been afraid and neglected for it?

"We should do this often, but next time, bring your lute," the dancer said.

"Why?"

"Because I want to see how that effects my dancing. Different instruments cause songs to be different." The dancer shrugged again before spinning in a little circle. The piper seemed to think about the words, and though the dancer seemed at ease, Bluehawk could tell she was waiting anxiously. He had enough Empathy to see that she had suggested the instrument for a reason.

Wait, hadn't his mentor told him that the rust colored youths were student Bards? Why would a Bard, even a student, be afraid of a particular instrument? What was it about the lute that made the piper wary? Her skills were obviously more than advanced, and more importantly, her hands itched to play the strings, if the way her fingers moved just by the thought of it were any indication. They plucked an imaginary tune as she pondered.

"The sun is going down," the piper said, getting up to her feet. "Hey, where's Jereth?"

"He went to go meet Vena and her Chosen; they come off circuit today. There's something about Vena that makes him sound all giddy." The dancer giggled and held out her hand.

The piper stepped forward and took it, leading the dancer out of their clearing. "I do have that composition to learn by next week. I'll have to sing it too," she added miserably.

"We'll meet here again tomorrow. We can practice together," the dancer suggested as they strolled towards the Collegia.

Bluehawk stepped out his hiding place to watch them go. Suddenly, the dancer stopped and turned slightly, looking back over her shoulder. He ducked back behind the tree.

"What is it," the piper asked.

"Nothing," the dancer answered quietly. In a louder voice, she added, "Just making sure I can find my way back, that's all." They started walking again and this time, he waited until they were out of earshot before moving again.


	18. Chapter 18

_Shuffle. Shuffle._

Sidra's pleasant dream about the k'Vala hot springs was interrupted by the soft sound. It woke her slowly, it was so soft, but as the dream faded, the sound grew louder, standing out against the silence of the rest of the world. It never failed to impress Sidra, the quiet of her room, even though it was in the middle of everything.

"Who's there?" she groaned, lifting up a bit, but the visitor scuttled out the door. Sidra frowned- this was not the first time she'd had a late night intruder. It was all the same person, she knew that much, and something about her seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place what the feeling reminded her of.

She moaned and turned over, trying to get comfortable again. Her pillow was too hot- she turned it over and sighed as she settled her cheek against the cooler side.

* * *

Tad watched the Ghost leave her room as the bell rang for morning classes, fingering the long scar on his left arm, a habit he'd had since he'd picked the scar up in that wagon accident years ago. She was with the Bardic trainee- again. Didn't they ever spend some time apart after classes? He wanted to talk to her but not with the other girl there.

He had been a student mage his whole life. As if they had considered it some sort of present, his parents had given him to Master Crim on his fifth birthday, saying they would come back when he was older and powerful. He had yet to hear from them over six years later.

His parents weren't the reason he wanted to talk to the Ghost though. It was his master. Master Crim was sick but not in the way people got sick by plagues and such. Master Crim was sick in the head, had been acting strangely for weeks and weeks. There was no one Tad could turn to, no one he could tell.

But the Ghost could help him, couldn't she? He knew an empath when he saw one, and she was most definitely one of them. And she wasn't like that other empath, the beautiful one with the curly hair, or like the weird Hawkbrother ones with their soft, knowing voices and outrageous costumes. The Ghost was gentle and quiet, and small, like him. She wasn't grown up like the others; she hadn't forgotten how to understand things.

If only that Bard wasn't always with her. Why did the Ghost have to be around her all the time? She was practically twice the Ghost's age- what could they possibly have to talk about? Were boys all that interesting? The Bard was practically mooning over someone she'd met a few days ago, Bluesky or Blueriver or something. The Ghost was patient, obviously trying to be polite by listening. Why didn't she just tell her to go away or at least breathe once and awhile?

Tad sulked as they scurried out of sight. Well, if the Ghost could be patient, so could he. He'd wait. One of these days, he would be able to speak to her in private.

* * *

"Oh, Sidra. You have no idea!" Lucilla gushed, swinging her companion's hand.

Sidra smiled. Whoever this Bluehawk was, he'd certainly made an impression on her friend. "And he's a what?"

"A kestra'chern. They're mind-healers, or something close to it," Lucilla went on. "They're Kaled'a'in and so much more interesting than our own males. Psh- immature, the lot of them! Bluehawk's not like that- he so much more intelligent and sensitive-"

Lucilla went on that vein for a few minutes, hardly pausing to breathe. Sidra let her go, trying not to laugh. She didn't know much about boys and was beginning to discover that she had no desire to. She knew all about mating, pleasurable or no, but it held no appeal to her. It wasn't as if she thought it would always be like it had been before- she'd witnessed enough by the other slaves her master had kept that it could be an experience worth having, but so far she'd had no real want of it. There had been a point on the road where Sidra had wondered if it was because she preferred her own sex to the opposite, yet even that didn't really stir her.

Not the way it stirred Lucilla. The trainee was radiant, happier than Sidra could remember seeing anyone. She paused for a breath, just as Sidra began wondering what Bluehawk was really like, not completely ignorant enough to believe all of Lucilla's generous descriptions. Soon, all the complements began to repeat and finally ran dry, leaving Lucilla with only sighs and a glowing giddiness.

"It makes me want to sing or write or something!" Lucilla finally said, pausing in front of the door to Sidra's history classroom.

"Well, that certainly counts for something," Sidra commented.

Lucilla gave her hand a squeeze and fled, and only then did Sidra allow herself to chuckle.


	19. Chapter 19

"All right Sidra. Now we'll try the same song, only do not hold back," Malic said, shifting a little in his seat. 

Sidra stood before him, a better position to sing, he insisted, than sitting. When one played as well as sang, one could sit, but when one has only one's voice, it was better to stand. Those were his words of course- he was a romantic to the core and loved proper language because he thought it made him sound fancy.

"Are you sure?" she asked, trying not to frown. She didn't always question any of her teachers, thinking that maybe they knew something she didn't, but this time, she couldn't help it. Her control was getting better, but to let it all go, completely unchecked…

"We are perfectly shielded," said their companion, a foreign mage who called himself Crim. He was the first person that Sidra could honestly say she did not care for in Haven- there was something off about him. It was in the way he spoke and the way his emotions twisted inside of him. He, like An'desha, had been scarred by bloodpath magic, but had not been healed the same way as the Sworn One. And there was something that struck a chord in her memory, as if she'd seen him before, but she couldn't place where.

"Nothing will get through, not even sounds," Crim went on with a little chuckle. He sounded so normal and pleasant- if it wasn't for Sidra's super sensitive abilities-

Sidra put the thought away from her mind with a deep breath, letting down her shielding. It was a simple enough song, one about a woman who had lost her true love to war- most of the songs Malic taught her now were as simple. 

The chaos that followed was anything but simple. The power flowed out of her, caught the sounds her mouth sent forth and rode them until it found its destination. It wasn't so pressing, now that she had given it a free conduit without boundaries, and it even felt a bit releasing, as if she'd been holding her breath for too long.

A detached part of her mind was analyzing how the power was flowing. Hazily, it recognized that it was healing something, but what, she wasn't skilled enough to tell. And there was something else she didn't recognize at all, something that sped out faster than Jereth could gallop and-

"Sidra!" Malic's hands were on her shoulders and she shut her mouth with a snap, startled out of the performance. 

"I'm- I'm sorry," she stammered.

"It wasn't you- I mean, it was but-"

Sidra could hear Crim gasping. When had he gotten so tired? Was her song that powerful?

"Damn near broke the shielding," he muttered, trying to control his breathing.

"I'm sorry," Malic said. "We still aren't sure of the depth of Sidra's power-"

"It wasn't the power. It's what the power did," Crim explained. "It didn't overwhelm the shielding, it attacked it, drilled more holes than I could fix at the end."

"I don't understand," Malic stated.

"It means she broke the spell. It was a spell that broke a spell. Most of the time, untrained power just overwhelms the shielding. Hers went straight for the shields, tried to eat right through them."

"But I thought I didn't have any mage power anymore," Sidra protested.

"Maybe it just mixes in with your other Gifts," Malic hazarded.

"You've got something all right. And you're going to need mage classes," Crim said firmly.

"That's not up to you," Malic said just as firmly. He was a bit offended by Crim's tone.

Sidra opened her mouth to speak- the last thing she wanted was for them to fight in front of her, but she was cut off before she could even begin.

"I beg your pardon?"

Malic let go of Sidra's shoulders. "I am her Bardic teacher. Most of her powerful Gifts work through her singing and I was given charge of her vocal education. That means I will decide whether or not she needs extra classes."

"You can't deny that she has mage power," Crim snapped.

Sidra took a step back, feeling the hostility and not enjoying it at all. This was not just a fight; obviously there was some sort of history she didn't know about that they couldn't get past professionally. 

_Jereth? I don't know_-

The fight progressed on, their voices getting louder and louder. Neither of them was arguing about Sidra, they were arguing about someone named Hera, another Bardic trainee. Hera became Edard, and a dozen other names. Malic was under the impression that Crim viewed the Bardic gift as another Mage gift, and so had tried to 'steal' students away for 'proper training'. Crim, on the other hand, was under the impression he had every right to do so and couldn't understand why Malic was upset.

_Sidra? What's wrong?_ Jereth called back. As he melded with her, Sidra could feel his puzzlement- which then melted into a sort of exasperated anger.

She stepped back next to Malic and slowly reached out to grasp his arm. The Bard started and Sidra knew that what she had felt from Jereth had been right- they HAD forgotten that she was there. Crim was confused by her actions but Malic was properly ashamed; he knew that it was improper for teachers to argue in front of their students. 

_If he had been Chosen, his Companion would be scolding him_, Jereth informed her grumpily.

"Uh- You may go Sidra. I think we are done here," Malic said with a sigh.

"No, we are not-" Crim cut off before he could finish his sentence and Sidra could only assume that Malic had somehow got him to be quiet.

"I will see you tomorrow, Sidra." She knew a dismissal when she heard one and took the opportunity to flee.


	20. Chapter 20

It was all Bluehawk's fault.

Tad paced back and forth in his master's suite, his hands twitching nervously. His young mind tried desperately to work through the puzzle that was slowly drifting through it, but even he knew that he didn't have enough pieces to make sense of it.

Something was definitely wrong with his master and it was all that stupid empath's fault. Ever since Bluehawk had joined up with them on the road…

He'd been stupid to think they'd left him behind. Just because he hadn't seen Bluehawk didn't mean he hadn't been following. Or that Master Crim hadn't been hiding him. He'd thought he'd driven him away but no- he'd failed obviously. He knew he was a young and somewhat stupid boy (hadn't his master said the same almost everyday of his apprenticeship?) but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

And now Bluehawk was doing it again, like he was gathering followers. Not that Tad minded that Bard throwing herself all over him but it meant that Bluehawk was yet again keeping him from helping his master. How could he get the Ghost to help Master Crim if her friend was hanging about, gushing about the very person who set up this whole mess in the first place?

He should have known it was Bluehawk, the one she'd been babbling about. He hadn't paid attention at first but then she'd mentioned he was a kestra-watsit just like Bluehawk had said when they'd first met. And she was all smitten with him, just like Crim had been, but his master had certainly not gushed about it. No, he'd become moody and quiet, but Tad saw the way he'd watched the other man. Tad sure was stupid about a lot of things, but not about that.

Enraged, Tad kicked one of the chests near his master's bed, knocking the thing off its regular seat. With an angry sigh, he grabbed at the contents, intending to put it all away. If his master caught sight of this mess-

Then his eyes saw the garments in his hands. Really looked at them. By the gods, they were the same types of clothes that Bluehawk wore, the strange looking robes, and colorful, decorated jackets and breeches! He bent over and peered into the chest, seeing two pairs of boots, and even the tiny box Bluehawk kept certain jewelry in.

No wonder Crim had been acting strange, had been sick in the head! His master had somehow managed to keep this from him, secretly carrying on with Bluehawk behind his back!

An unsettling thought passed over Tad. How had his master been keeping this from him? He hadn't been magicked in some way, had he? Had his master put a glamour over his eyes?

Bluehawk had put him up to it, he knew it! It was all Bluehawk, telling his master to do those things- his master had never ever been interested in things before.

Well, he'd teach him. He would make the empath pay for hurting his master and telling him to do the frightful things Master Crim had been taken to doing lately.

Tad stuffed all the clothes back into the chest and slammed it shut.

***

Bluehawk lounged beneath a tree in Companion's field, running a thumb over a scar on his left arm, a habit he indulged in when he was deep in thought. His moods had been growing less volatile over the passing weeks as he grew more accepting of the situation he was in, something further helped along by his friendship with the two girls he'd seen that day, the Bard Lucilla and the Herald-trainee Sidra. Well, to be honest, it was most often Lucilla that he spent any time with; Sidra was always flitting about doing something or other. Something irked Bluehawk about Sidra- it was almost as if she didn't like him or was somehow wary of him.

He'd hardly noticed until now though. Lucilla was engaging and intelligent, someone he was really enjoying the company of more and more. She certainly had talent for all her shyness and he was more that happy to crack that shell for her as much as he could. He could Feel that she needed it.

Life had been starting to become good. He had begun enjoying his work and learning again, even Moonflower had commented at his change in attitude.

But…

Someone had said the word Crim today, talking in passing about a mage who was apparently visiting the Collegia. Bluehawk hoped it was not the same Crim he knew, the one he'd met long ago on the road. Crim was a soft shadow in the memory of that trip, one that Bluehawk hadn't thought of in a long time.

The Crim he knew was a talented but very anti-social mage from somewhere in western Karse (if what Crim had told him was at all true), who had fallen in love with him while they'd traveled together. And if Bluehawk was being honest, he could have easily fallen in love back, but something was not right with Crim. There was a deep hurt there, a scar that twisted Crim heart so that he couldn't see straight. Something in the mage couldn't believe that he was good enough, that Bluehawk could love him for who and what he was.

He'd tired of it. The constant need for reassurance, the inability to take compliments and affection. He'd realized that he was constantly trying to be Crim's lover (even though nothing had actually happened!) and his kestra'chern, and he was not experienced enough to be. He'd heard of others who had managed- Lightsong, Silverfox- but that kind of life was not for Bluehawk.

And Crim had grown angry at him for trying to heal him. Crim didn't think his past or his scars were what made him unsuitable- no it was something else surely, something in his physical appearance or financial situation. Crim was not particularly successful, though certainly not dirt poor.

And Bluehawk was not the only one who'd noticed Crim's problems. The boy who traveled with Crim, little Tad, had begged Bluehawk for help, knowing that his master was sick and that he wouldn't heal on his own. Bluehawk had hesitated, trying to explain to the boy that he'd tried already, that it was probably best if someone not so close to Crim took up the task but he hadn't given the boy a definite answer.

In the end, Moonflower had made the decision for him. She'd had their party move on, making for Haven and turning away for their former path. They had left Crim and Tad behind in the little village on Valdemar's border, and without much warning or goodbye- something that Bluehawk regretted until this day.

Oh, by all that was good, he hoped it was not the same Crim. And if he was, he hoped that Crim had found some help. Or at least that he'd fallen out of love with Bluehawk.

He bent his head, running his fingers through his hair, and when he looked up again, he saw Lucilla walking up the path. Her face lit up when she saw him and he felt his own spirits lift a bit, the shadowy memory of Crim fading for a moment. He smiled and got to his feet, making his way down the path to meet her.

_Author's note: Not sure I'm happy with this, but I needed to post something... It was honestly written too quickly but... meh... maybe I'll rewright it another time..._


	21. Chapter 21

"… and so, Solaris asked me to stay here, to be a diplomat and ambassador for Karse," Karal ended quietly.

He and Sidra sat face to face in an alcove in the Sun Shrine. Altra was at his elbow, tail twitching. The Firecat was waiting patiently to be properly scratched and adored, something that Sidra never tired of doing, but for now he stayed at Karal's side. The Sunpriest was blind except through Altra's eyes, and he needed to be able to gauge Sidra's responses today.

Today was the day he'd finally decided to tell her the truth about her relationship with An'desha, a person that he was quite sure Sidra still somewhat worshipped as a hero. When his old friend had told him, Karal himself had almost disbelieved save for the fact that An'desha didn't lie often, and never would to Karal. They had been through too much and shared too many personal secrets to ever be afraid to tell each other the truth.

And this was not an easy secret for An'desha to admit. He'd been torn between his blood-duty to the girl and doing what was best for Valdemar, to whom he and his people were allied. On the one hand, he felt guilty for giving her up once again, without really even trying a second chance at raising her. On the other, she was needed here, more so than Karal suspected anyone knew, even himself. She could have a future in either place, and be more than happy.

But Karal and An'desha were not heart-brothers because they agreed on or had the same perspective on things, and he had put the Sworn One to ease by giving him sound advice. How many other children had already been given up by their parents to serve Valdemar, even in some cases when that country was not their own? How many other children had been sent and raised by both teacher here and parent there? And An'desha had duties of his own, some which would directly interfere with any parenting or even simple stability he could have given Sidra, had she stayed.

Karal did not say, however, that Sidra would most certainly understand why she'd been given up so quickly (not easily by any means) because that might not be true, and that was the biggest reason why he had hesitated until now to tell her. At first, he'd thought to tell her the first time they'd met but decided to wait and see.

In the months that Sidra had been here, he'd heard and seen for himself that she was more than capable of the understanding and forgiveness that would truly ease An'desha's mind. In the first month (after her trance-month), she proved herself a willing and eager student in her classes. In the next months, she became even more willing and eager to work as a Herald in her position would. According to the student gossip, she was a favorite older sister to most, if not all, the younger students in the Collegia, as well as the pet of the noble children sent to be fostered at Court. And there were some cases where she was something of a surrogate mother, especially to the distrustful ones plucked off the hard streets of the city and within the band of traveling merchants or entertainers.

Many of those boys and girls who came to him for advice or counsel often spoke of her, telling him stories of how she had stood up for him or quieted a nightmare of hers. And once, even Darkwind had told him of a time where only Sidra had been able to find one of their more troubled mage-students, a shy boy who had the tendency to hide inside or under things, and was a self taught illusionist- even now, he sometimes spun reality to keep himself hidden or to avoid trouble and conflict.

Karal knew that Elspeth especially had come to see Sidra as a warning sign; if Sidra started shadowing or asking for one of the students in any of the Collegia, than that student should be monitored. In one case, one such student proved to be suicidal, and all the teachers were agreed that it was only a matter of time before another turned out to be violent towards others. There was too much magic and far too many types of people in the Collegia, let alone the Palace or city to even entertain the idea that all the children and adults brought through the gates were of sound mind. There was even a Bard that he knew would have never been able to make it to her Scarlets had it not been for Sidra- the two still corresponded though he'd heard that Lucilla was traveling abroad in Karse at the moment.

So, for nearly three quarters of a year, Karal had waited patiently, watching to see how she would change and if she would finally settle into something. Aside from being far more educated and more confident, little of her personality had changed. She was still quiet and gentle, reserved but benign, giving special preference to very few people. Her patience and endurance astounded Karal sometimes, traits she shared with her Companion, who could be seen having his mane and tail tugged or braided into outrageous styles by the more outgoing children. She was known to go whole nights with patients in the healers' wing and he suspected had spent more time comforting the dying than anyone knew for sure.

But, even Sidra's patience and endurance was not endless, and there were times like now when she sought refuge in the Sun Shrine. Most of those times she simply meditated or talked silently with her Companion (Karal himself never knew for sure) in the quiet of the Shrine. There were a few, very few, times when she sought Karal out directly, to confide in him as others often did, especially when she thought that Jereth couldn't understand or when she simply needed another point of view.

Today had been a bit different though. Today, Karal had come to her, feeling only a little guilty that he'd interrupted what she jokingly called her "quiet time", but when it came apparent that he'd wanted to talk to her about An'desha, she looked quite eager. He started with the most basic thing; the story of how they'd met and why they were as close as brothers.

"You are much more than a simple diplomat," Sidra observed in a quiet voice. She never spoke in a normal voice here, or even wore shoes in the Sun Shrine; that also had not changed since the first time they had spoken together here. She also spoke in Karsite, since she insisted on learning as many languages as anyone would teach her. What good could she do to comfort anyone who needed her help if she couldn't understand them, and besides, not all the children brought to the Collegia had a Companion to teach them the Valdemar language if they didn't know it already.

"In some ways, you are a personification of the very link between two countries who once hated each other and now are allies. A link that shows not only that it can work, but it can also enjoy and need to be and even strive to be better than it was," she added.

Karal blinked in surprise, though he shouldn't have been. Sidra was incredibly astute for her age, and possessed a natural ability to translate that astuteness into true wisdom. She didn't display this often, again possessing the wisdom to know that it was not always appropriate to parade her knowledge in front of people, especially her elders.

Much to his relief though, she changed the subject before he could try and give any sort of response. "I had no idea," she said, "that the damage to An'desha had been so bad. To be trapped in your own body, to see it do so many hurtful things and not be able to do anything about it… It must have been terrible."

Though she didn't say anything, Karal knew she was comparing An'desha's life to her own. His friend had told him only a little of what she must have experienced and Sidra herself had never spoken of it after that first month, but it must have been equally terrifying. It was certainly not incomparable.

"He has a daughter, Nyara, who travels among the Tayledras clans as an ambassador for Valdemar," Karal told Sidra. "She was begotten while the Beast was alive, and in some ways, she is much older than An'desha himself. I think their relationship is more of estranged siblings than father and daughter." He paused, looking through Altra's eyes to measure Sidra's reaction. It wasn't easy; Sidra, though she couldn't see how she looked when she felt certain emotions, was very adept at hiding how she felt, especially the more negative emotions like fright or anger. But seven months was a long time, and Karal could be fairly sure that she had been surprised and was now seeing how perfectly rational the thought could be.

"I guess it's only natural," Sidra mused, "if I'm understanding this correctly, that it's not really uncanny to assume that Falconsbane would want an heir, right?"

"An'desha suspects that there are other children, many of whom he knows to have been abandoned at a young age by the Beast's servants and slaves. They were cast aside because they were not pretty enough, or their power was not adequate. If any of them did somehow survive, then they will probably never know where they actually came from, and unless they have the Magegift, it will be nearly impossible for him to recognize any of them. An'desha considers it very lucky that he even knows about the two daughters he has."

"And he must have done it over many lives," Sidra mused to herself. "How many bloodlines are actually all the product of one soul, reincarnating himself over and over again? And you said all his victims were Ma'ar's original descendants? That is truly a horrendous number of people all related to one another and most of them have no clue."

_She is going too far off-track, worrying about An'desha and those old scars_, Altra said. _And not only that, but she'll give herself a headache at this rate._

Sidra should have been able to hear the comment, but Karal suspected Altra was right; she was thinking too deeply on the subject. He reached out physically with a hand and gently took one of her own, bringing her back into the present.

"An'desha has long come to terms with these things," Karal reminded her, "with my help and with his own will. You spent time with him; did he seem so broken still?"

"No he didn't," she admitted. "Hurt yes, but not so much that he needed help."

"There are some scars that never, ever heal all the way. And it would be troubling if An'desha had not been moved at all by his ordeal," Karal added.

A moment passed in complete silence as Sidra again fell into thought, or more likely began to talk to Jereth. Karal hoped the Companion would steer Sidra back along the lines that Karal wanted her to be thinking.

The Sunpriest turned his face to the light shining through the windows, asking his god silently for strength. He now had no idea how Sidra would react to his news but he knew it would go easier if she came to realize it herself. He just hoped he could keep her mind from straying. A cloud passed over the sun, making the temperature- and the hope in his heart- drop.

"Did you say that An'desha knows of two daughters?" Sidra said, her tone sounding as if she were groping for ways to keep talking about the Sworn One. "Where is the other one? Did she also live in the Beast's stronghold with Nyara?"

"For a time, but Nyara doesn't know about her. In fact, only An'desha and I know about her or where she is. At this point, _she_ doesn't even know who she is or where she really came from," Karal answered delicately.

"Why?"

"We were afraid of how she would react. When An'desha first found her, she was not very strong, weakened in mind and body by the life she'd been living. He decided that the secret could wait until she became stronger and a bit more grown up. It might have been too overwhelming a thing to say so soon."

"But why are you telling me this, if it's such a sensitive secret? Does she live in the Collegia and you need help telling her?" Sidra asked.

Ah, so close.

Karal didn't answer. He simply sat and waited, letting her put the pieces together. Sidra saw the world through her Gifts- she should be Seeing the way he was feeling and realize that the regret and the guilt and even the anger at An'desha for making him be the one to tell her all of this was all somehow connected to her.

Altra's eyes were better than Karal's had been or ever would have been, and now it was Altra, not Karal, who saw Sidra's hands begin to shake ever so slightly. Her face stayed as still as stone, her body still in the position she had been sitting ever since Karal had lowered himself in front of her earlier to tell her this story.

But all of a sudden, she quickly rose to her feet and was gone, walking briskly down the aisle of the Shrine and out into the Field beyond. Karal turned his face in the direction of her footsteps, louder ones than he had ever heard from her before, as if he could watch her go.

Behind him, the cloud stopped shielding the sun and the light once again poured around his shoulders, wrapping around him like comforting arms.


	22. Chapter 22

"I really should have asked this of you sooner, Jadeheart," Darkwind offered apologetically, after a sip of tea.

Jadeheart, a visiting kestra'chern and renowned instructor of that trade, smiled warmly at her visitor, the wrinkles around her eyes becoming more pronounced. She casually brushed a stray locke of her long hair from her shoulder- she was an elegant woman who carried her age remarkably well and made no effort to hide it.

"I am not unaware if Sidra's situation," she told Darkwind. Her voice was one of her trademarks- it was deeper and huskier than most Kalad'a'in, and was wonderfully pleasant to listen to. "I was always under the impression that she was to receive a Herald's full education. The people of this city, of this land, are oft set in their ways and not always so open to less… traditional… methods."

Darkwind nodded his head in agreement. He knew quite well how vocal Haven's conservatives could be.

"That was our plan, but we underestimated the girl's tenacity." Now Darkwind chuckled. "Sidra is a sponge for knowledge. She picks up her lessons faster than many other students do and is more than willing to apply what she has learned to her work about the Palace, despite the fact that she is not a full Herald yet."

Jadeheart smiled again. "I have heard that this is not such an unusual thing here in the Collegia."

He chuckled again. "You are right- the Companions have an uncanny knack of finding people more than willing to make up for the laziness of the people they protect. I have never heard of a Herald willing to take an extended holiday. Most of them never retire."

"And you want me to take the girl on?"

"Only for a few lessons," Darkwind said when Jadeheart frowned. "There may come a time when learning such skills might come in handy. Sidra will not be like most Heralds, assigned to a circuit and traveling about the countryside. She'll be assigned here and Elspeth and I want her to have a well rounded mind and tools at her disposal. We have students and visitors coming in from all walks of life, and soon Sidra will be expected to be able to handle any of them should she need to."

"If I agree to this, it will be more than just a few lessons," Jadeheart said in a warning tone. "Our skills are not to be taken lightly, and we do not teach them on a whim." Darkwind bowed in acknowledgement and took another sip of tea as Jadeheart seemed to fall into thought. Her long fingers twirled her own cup in her hands.

"It is a shame," she said softly, "that Moonflower is no longer alive. She loved such challenges and loved teaching even more than myself."

"You say that so sadly," Darkwind commented.

Jadeheart's eyes met his own, and she smiled again, but it was not entirely happy. "Her death was very sudden and very tragic. A whole village in the southern part of Karse was completely and utterly destroyed a few years back- Moonflower and her party were traveling through and were among those that perished. She was a very good friend of mine."

"I am sorry," he told the kestra'chern politely but not unsympathetically.

She waved a hand at him. "I only mentioned it because she would have loved to meet Sidra. Her delight was having a hand in things that broke molds." Jadeheart let out a sigh. "I think, though, I want to meet and talk to Sidra before I make such a decision. There are those who prize our knowledge because it is exotic and there are those who are called by it."

"Not unlike a Herald's calling," Darkwind remarked gently, and she laughed, a hand pressing to her chest.

"Chastised!" she cried, laughing again. "But I was serious, Darkwind. Not all empaths and Mind-healers are kestra'chern."

"A meeting, then, is all that I ask."

* * *

Up in her tower room, Talia was pacing. At first, Sidra's empathic 'ears' had perked up when she'd Felt the woman's frustration, but it seemed she was only giving her son Jemmie a lecture. He was at that age where all boys constantly got into trouble and so Sidra left her to it, disappointed that she couldn't lend one of her favorite mentors any support.

She went back to sulking in her little hiding place- a grotto that most people had forgotten. It was a good bit of distance away from the Tayledras' ekele and even the most secretive of couples never came here for trysting anymore, so she would have it all to herself for a good while.

It was quiet. Too quiet. And Sidra had nothing but her own thoughts to fill the silence. She desperately wished Lucilla were here and not travelling abroad. Yet even having Lucilla here meant questions and discussions that Sidra was not sure she could take part in right now.

Her father. An'desha was her biological father. And he had known. And kept it from her. He'd told Karal. But not Sidra.

Sidra knew she was being unfair but she was torn. She was torn between being hurt and understanding. In the back of her mind, the fact lurked that there was really no way An'desha could have kept or raised her, though it did nothing to comfort her at the moment.

And that moment. That moment just before she had left the clan; that moment they had picked out a name together. That indescribable feeling- it was parental pride. He'd fulfilled a basic parental duty, the naming of a child, something he hadn't been able to do with any of the children his body had sired, probably not even with Nyara. His first and last act as a parent.

No, not his last. He'd given her up too.

_He wrote ahead to prepare them for your arrival_, Jereth remarked quietly in her mind. It was the first time since she'd left Karal that he'd dared to touch her mind at all, let alone in Speech.

_He wrote ahead to warn them about me. Just like he would have with any other out of control Chosen_, she snapped back.

_He took you in, took care of you when you were sick._

_He took you in too!_

_He named you._

"I named myself!," she shouted out loud, slamming a hand against the ground. It was the closest she came to throwing a real tantrum, for it was over before it started. Instead, she curled up against the wall, hugging her legs to her chest, and pressing her forehead to her knees.

The first sob was very tiny, but the second one was significantly louder. It was followed by a third and a fourth, all escalating in sound and length, and soon she was crying uncontrollably. Eventually, her arms gave out, and she laid on the floor of the grotto, letting herself cry until the ground was soaked. She couldn't remember a time when she cried so much or so hard or even so loudly, but then she'd never needed to cry when there was no one around to hear her either.

Jereth stayed silent, although his mind seemed to gently brush against hers at various moments as if he was rubbing her back or stroking her hair. He didn't physically move toward her, instead leaving her in solitude.

Sometime later, she turned over on her back, trying to get her abused lungs to breathe properly again.

"Why couldn't he have just told me?," she asked the open air. It took all her leftover willpower not to succumb to hiccups.

_Maybe he was afraid you would ask to stay, or ask him to come with you._

"But at least I could have savored the time we did have together!"

_You didn't already?_

_That was different! I didn't know!_

Jereth didn't argue with her, but the feelings he was projecting (or that she was Feeling from him) were telling her that he thought she was being a bit childish.

_Are you upset because-_

_We never even had a chance_, Sidra told him miserably. _We finally met and it was already over. It wasn't like with the other Chosen. They knew their parents. They knew their families._

_Families who might have beaten them. Used them as slaves. Sold their bodies for money on the street._

_An'desha wouldn't have done those things. _

_It would have been awkward._

_I know._

_And maybe uncomfortable._

_I know._

_For both of you._

_At least I would have been more open with him._ Sidra didn't know if Jereth heard that last part and quickly decided it didn't matter.

_He'll visit._

_He'll come to visit Karal._

_Do you honestly think he has no feelings for you at all? He gave you up, Sidra._

Even though she still felt disgruntled about it, in that moment Sidra understood what he meant. At the very least, if An'desha had kept her, she wouldn't have met Lucilla.

_Oh, and do I mean nothing? What would have happened to us if you had stayed with the clans?_

_I suppose I would have had to make do with just walking everywhere._


	23. Chapter 23

Tad was tired. Since his master seemed to take to his bed earlier and earlier in the evening these days, he wasn't used to staying up so late. Master Crim preferred that Tad wake up early and have everything ready, so the boy was used to waiting until his master was asleep and then going to bed himself.

But today, Tad was determined to talk to the Ghost. Nothing was going to stop him, not even fatigue. He needed to get Master Crim some help and soon. More and more strange things were happening, and they were even starting to frighten Tad. He felt constantly charged with nervous energy and worry.

It all began that day he'd found the kestra'chern's clothes in his master's things. He'd immediately set off to investigate, trying to find out any information about Bluehawk that he could, but the results disturbed him even more than what he'd already known. Not anywhere in the Palace, among the inner city, or even in any of the taverns did Tad find any mention of a kestra'chern named Bluehawk. Apparently, no kestra'cherns had entered the city in over a year. Tad was fairly sure that Bluehawk hadn't been in the Palace when they had arrived, and he and his master hadn't been in Haven for a full year yet.

Once he'd discovered this, Tad had gone back to the incriminating trunk he'd found. He examined the clothes a bit closer and found that not only were they being worn, but they also hadn't been washed in a fair bit of time. How had he missed the smell that day? Tad was used to being clean, wearing clean clothes, and cleaning his master's dirty clothes. In the Palace, there were servants to take care of laundry, but Tad still was in charge of making sure they got to the right people and came back in a timely manner. So logically (Tad was practical and logical, even if he wasn't at all clever), he should have noticed how obnoxious the odor was.

And a little voice inside his head began to murmur louder and louder that the clothes not only smelled badly- they smelled like Crim when he hadn't had a bath in a day or two. Was his master wearing the clothes? Did he miss Bluehawk that much? Was that why he'd been acting so strange since they'd reached Valdemar and particularly so in the past few months?

Why had he never seen his master in these clothes? When was he wearing them? To bed? Even now, Tad tried to remember but couldn't think of a day or even a moment where his master had tried on the clothes in front of Tad. And even more disturbing was the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually seen and talked to his master. He found notes left for him in Master Crim's handwriting, leaving him tasks to do. When was the last time Master Crim had actually ordered him to do something when they were in the same room? Tad wasn't sure if he was recalling his master's voice correctly.

Tad shook himself back to the present, swallowing stiffly in an effort to stave off tears. All these thoughts were making him upset and just a little bit sick, and he couldn't afford to be either. His master needed him, needed to be taken care of. He knew his parents had given him to Master Crim to become an accomplished mage, but even now, Tad knew that would never happen. He would stay with Master Crim and run his house and his estate if he ever acquired one. That was Tad's fate.

No one had seen the Ghost in the stables or in her room. He overheard one of the Herald teachers mentioning that she had not attended her evening classes. After months of slowly figuring out her patterns, the next logical step for Tad was to check the Sun Shrine but even that had proved unfruitful. Not even the priest named Karal was in the Shrine when Tad had checked, so he couldn't even ask if she'd been there.

The rest of his day had been taken up with running about the healer's wing, the student's wings, and the bardic wing. She was usually in one of those three places, counseling a student here, taking a brief lesson from a teacher or a master there. Sometimes she could be found soothing the wounded, or rarely the dying, but not today. He even gathered enough courage to check her room. No sign.

He finally resorted to Companion's Field. Something about the albino horses made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up, and he preferred to stay clear of them if he could. She was, or rather soon would be a Herald though, and so a Companion was part of her package, so to speak. Tad had no clue which one of them belonged to her, however; they were all white with silver hooves and those uncanny blue eyes.

Wasting no time trying to actually get one of the beasts to talk to him, Tad instead started searching all the nooks and crannies he could find in the vast field. Rumor had it that there were grottos that couples would escape to when their rooms were noisy and crowded, and there was all manner of trees and growth. He found the ruins of the old bell tower that once stood in the middle- it was empty.

He avoided the Hawkbrother's ekele on principle- that was where the visiting kestra'chern stayed, and all in all, their whole kind were strange and not normal. Tad knew as a mage's student, he should not be unnerved by them (his master had scolded him for it often enough), but they were too weird. If he didn't find the Ghost in a grotto somewhere, he would go to the ekele but not before.

Tad stopped for a moment in a far corner of the field, looking up at the moon. It looked just like any other moon he'd seen in his young life, but it was different because life was different. His master was not the same master. His home wasn't the same home. He didn't even feel right in his own body, something he was slowly becoming increasingly aware of. It was all overwhelming and he just wanted it all to stop.

He sunk down to the ground, hugging his knees up against his chest. His back gently hit the bark of a tree trunk and he relaxed, letting it support him. It was getting very late and he was not sure coming out here had been a good idea. He was tired.

Only a moment, he told himself as he laid his head on his knees and closed his eyes.

* * *

Even though her brief talk with Jereth had been somewhat reassuring, Sidra did not venture from her hiding place until very late that night. She knew she had classes and that her teachers would probably be worried about her, but she would have been too rattled to have concentrated on anything they would have tried to teach her. There was a little bit of guilt in her for not at least sending word that she wouldn't have been attending today, even though she knew that Jereth might have told someone in her stead.

She might have dozed a little as she lay on the floor, smelling only the soil and hearing only the rustle of the tree. After the small tantrum she'd thrown, she remembered letting herself relax into the sort of stupor she often noticed children fell into once they've cried all their feelings out. It was a new feeling for her and she hadn't fought it even though she should have been the adult she was.

It was the drop in temperature that woke her up. It had changed slowly over the marks along with the setting sun, but it had settled into its nighttime cool candlemarks ago. This was a different sort of change, one that usually preceded rain.

_Jereth?_

_The clouds are getting thicker. You had better come in before it begins to pour. I'll come and get you._

_I'll meet you by the bridge_, she told him, rolling over and pushing herself up off the ground. She felt stiff and wobbly, and she knew she must have really fallen asleep at some point. She made her way to the mouth of the grotto, one hand on the wall to steady herself.

She paused there, her face lifted to the sky in an effort to gauge just how much time she had. It was difficult since she was not very good at sensing the weather magically and could not see the sky itself to predict when it would begin to rain. It was at that moment that she realized she was not alone. A lump that was someone was huddled beneath a tree, muttering a bit to himself. It took her a moment to realize who it was. He was so wracked with grief that it nearly overrode the senses she normally used to identify who she saw and Felt.

"Master Crim?" she called gently, taking a step towards him. He didn't acknowledge her presence at first, but it was Crim, and she had never seen him like this before. True, she saw him rarely since the lesson with Malic those months ago; Elspeth must have decided he was better off teaching students with more straightforward Gifts. Still, something was very, very wrong with him, and though Sidra couldn't say she liked him, it was beneath her to deny him help because of her personal feelings.

"Master Crim?" she said again, closing the gap between them slowly and stretching a hand out to touch him. It landed on his head, feeling a head of greasy, unwashed hair attached to a shuddering body. He both physically and emotionally shrank away from her, curling up into himself.

"What are you doing out here so late?" she asked, even though he could have easily asked her the same thing. Sidra lowered herself down to squat beside him, keeping their physical connection intact.

"One of them brought me out here," he said, his voice sounding wet and tired.

She didn't bother wasting time with the question "who?" because something in his tone sounded like he wouldn't answer. He was barely aware that he was not by himself, let alone that it was Sidra and not some other passerby who had found him. Instead, she told him," Master Crim, it's going to rain. We should get back to the stables."

"We won't make it," he answered as if he was talking to himself.

Just then, a drop of rain fell on her hand, sending a quick chill of her spine in surprise and dismay. Crim was right. They wouldn't make it back to the Palace or even the ekele from here before the clouds opened up. Another drop fell on a leaf next to her foot, making her right ear twitch, then another on her shoulder.

"Let's at least get into the grotto then, and we can wait it out for a few minutes. Maybe it will stop soon." Sidra rose to her feet, sliding her hand down to his bicep to tug him gently to his feet. He didn't fight her, although he didn't quite uncurl all the way as he got up, and allowed himself to be led into the grotto, where he immediately sat back down against the wall.

Sidra quickly sent a mindtouch to Jereth, telling him what was going on, and then kneeled down next to her former teacher. He smelled like sweat and his teeth were chattering.

"It's cold," he whispered as if he was trying to echo her thoughts. Sidra wished she had a cloak to throw over him.

"It'll be over soon," she told him quietly, rubbing his shoulders a bit to warm him.

"No, not over. I don't want it to be over," he whined, the unhappiness in him darkening further. Something in him was not right, even worse than on that day long ago. Sidra's more educated mind examined her memory of the lesson and she was soon confused. Why did she seem to think she had set a healing in motion in Crim when he was obviously worse off than before? The bloodpath taint was more evident now than it had been- or was it merely because Sidra's skills were more honed?

"It's over," he sobbed suddenly. "It was always over."

Outside, there was a great gush of noise as the rain finally began to fall. Sidra half wondered if Crim was making the rain fall but she knew that wasn't true. If he was, she would have Felt it right off.

Jereth mindtouched her again, anxious, but she convinced him not to come after her. She couldn't leave Crim alone and he couldn't ride as he was now. No, they would just have to wait it out and hope it stopped soon.

After a moment's hesitation, Sidra wrapped her arms around him as best she could, silently telling him that he wasn't alone. He didn't relax into her or thank her, but in a few seconds, his shivers slowed until they stopped altogether. She settled herself firmly against the wall next to him and waited for the rain to stop.

* * *

A hand on her shoulder woke her up in the morning. At first, she thought it was Crim but a quick 'look' told her that she'd been mistaken. It was Bluehawk kneeling beside her, trying to rouse her.

"Sidra, it's morning," he told her quietly. "Did you get caught in the rain last night?"

"Yes,' she answered. "We both did."

"Both of you? Sidra, there's no one else here," Bluehawk answered, puzzled. Sidra sat up then, Feeling around. Bluehawk was right; there was no one in the grotto but the two of them.

"He must have woken up before me," she said to herself.

"There was someone with you?"

"Yes, but I guess he left. Help me up?" Bluehawk grasped her by the forearms and pulled her up into standing position. She freed one arm to pat the grass and leaves from her shirt and let out a small sigh.

I should find him, she thought to herself, before he hurts himself. There was not a doubt in her mind that self harm was not far down the road for Crim and she felt somewhat anxious to nip it in the butt before it became a fixture in his life.

"What's this," she asked, suddenly feeling something strange on Bluehawk's arm. He pulled it slowly away, slightly embarrassed but not concerned that she had discovered it.

"It's just a scar. I fell out of a tree when I was very young. A branch scratched my arm pretty deep and the healer I was brought to didn't fix it quite right."

"Oh," she answered. "What time is it?" She took a deep breath, smelling the temperature and the air. "Breakfast?"

"A mark after," he corrected, even though he was obviously impressed she'd been so accurate.

"Have you been running?" She could smell the sweat on him.

"I like to run in the mornings. That's how I found you. Have you been here all night? Come on, you can walk me back."

Sidra let herself be led out of the grotto, distracted. She was still thinking about Crim and where he could be. She wanted to dismiss her classes again but couldn't do it in good conscience, not even for a patient. She resolved to tell the healers and Talia to keep an eye out for him.

"Have you heard from Lucilla?" Bluehawk asked.


	24. Chapter 24

Sidra took her time walking back from the Tayledras ekele. Most of her afternoon had been spent with a kestra'chern named Jadeheart, in what she had been told was going to be an interview. It had felt more like the times when Sidra was confessing her soul to Karal, and at some points, even deeper than that. Jadeheart was skilled at extracting information without making it seem like she was prying at all, and now Sidra was torn between feeling exposed and wishing she could do it as well as Jadeheart.

Within a quarter of an hour, the kestra'chern had had Sidra in another rant about An'desha (obviously she still hadn't completely forgiven him even though she had thought so), and not long after that, they had a long discussion about her encounter with Master Crim, whom Sidra had not seen in three days since the night in the grotto. Jadeheart shared Sidra's disturbed feeling towards the mage, but she did not offer her input other than to confirm that Sidra was right to be wary of him.

Most of her 'interview' had revolved around Sidra's current duties and what she wanted to do with her new status. The trainee had never talked so much in her life- seemingly in one breath- and could not remember a time when she'd wanted to talk so much, for so long, or about so many things at once. And Jadeheart had borne it gracefully, appearing to be interested in every little thing that Sidra had to say.

At the end of it, Jadeheart had sent her back to the Palace proper with the promise that they would meet again on a regular basis. She had admitted to Sidra that it was apparent to her that the trainee would not be right for the full training in her art as Darkwind had hoped, but she would, however, be willing to teach her a few tricks to make her job as a Mind-healer easier. She explained that from what she knew, it seemed that Sidra's skills were developing towards a different, but no less effective, end to a kestra'chern's, and she did not want to interfere.

"You are already on your way to being a kestra'chern," Jadeheart had told her, "but not our kind. You are a Herald's version of kestra'chern."

Sidra wasn't sure about that, but she was sure about certain things about Jadeheart herself. The kestra'chern was old, older than she appeared or carried herself, and she was starting to tire. Sidra did not think this weariness had anything influence in her decision not to take Sidra under the full training, but it made Sidra sad to see. Jadeheart was calm and serene, and she sensed that she had not only taught so much to so many, but might have so much more to teach if she felt up to it. At the same time, Sidra believed that Jadeheart had earned whatever rest she wished to take, and she felt bad for taking up her time.

Another thing Sidra had noticed about Jadeheart was how different she was from Bluehawk. When talking to Jadeheart, her attention had instantly been taken up by the kestra'chern and held there. The few times she had been alone with Bluehawk, oddly even fewer since Lucilla had gone abroad, Sidra had hardly felt his presence. Jadeheart felt like Talia even though she was a non-magical kestra'chern; both women commanded the attention- and usually confession- from the people they talked and connected to. It was easy to feel the healing quality both women possessed and offered to those around them. Bluehawk did not possess that quality. He claimed a small amount of Empathy but Sidra couldn't feel it reaching out to touch her own, like Talia's did.

Sidra hoped it was because Bluehawk was still a student and Jadeheart was a true master. It could explain why both the older kestra'chern was such a stronger presence in Sidra's mind, but it didn't tell Sidra why she felt so much more advanced than the student kestra'chern.

She could feel a headache coming on, and tried to turn her mind onto a different topic. Like a bath.

_Star-eyed_, she thought, using one of An'desha and Darkwind's phrases, _I need a bath. Now._

She felt grimy and tired. A bath would make her feel not only better, but calmer. As she was, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Something in the back of her mind was making her uneasy and she couldn't figure out what it was. Physically, she paused in the hallway right by an open window and waited. Nothing happened and her uneasiness deepened. By the time she got to her room, her hands felt like they were going to start shaking. Her skin was crawling. Something was definitely wrong and it was escaping her, just beyond her 'vision'.

It only grew worse once she reached her own door. Her hand hovered over the knob, but she couldn't bring herself to grasp it. Then a pang of physical pain flashed its way through her chest and she instantly knew it wasn't her own. It forced her to gasp and finally throw open the door.

The first thing she noticed was the metallic smell of blood in the room. It was familiar in her nose, and different from the kind she smelt in the Healer's wing. This was free standing blood, not the linen and medicine tinged blood that she smelt on the patients she was so often among. There was only one place she had smelt this kind of blood- in Dorniant's house.

There was a dimly glowing lump on her floor. It was not human but a hertasi, a rare thing in Haven but she was aware of them running around for the Tayledras and Kaled'a'in representatives. Sidra instantly recognized this hertasi as the sneaky intruder who had been coming in and out of her room while she'd been asleep or away, and she was momentarily miffed that she hadn't figured it out.

Another lightning bolt of pain brought her back to herself and she dropped to the floor beside the hertasi, barely noticing that her hands landed in a pool of its- her- blood. She was dying and not peacefully. Knowing that Healer Frey would certainly lecture her for doing this so sloppily, Sidra focused and began to hum, projecting her voice over the lizard. She had been stabbed, by what Sidra didn't know, and she also couldn't tell how long ago she'd been attacked. Sidra did know that the hertasi wasn't coherent, probably because of the pain.

_Jereth?,_ she called. _Jereth get help._

Her humming was working but slowly. Frey had not yet actually taught Sidra how to physically start to apply her Healing gift to actual wounds, focusing instead for now on basics like herbal remedies and anatomy. Still, how many times had her teachers told her to trust her instincts? How many times had they implied that she seemed to be made for healing and mind-healing? Sloppy or no, her humming would help, and at the very least give the hertasi a better chance to live.

That uneasy feeling that she was missing something came back, overriding even her worry for the hertasi by her hands. She stopped humming and lifted her head up in the direction of the ceiling as if it would help.

Then she realized that Jereth hadn't answered her.

_Jereth?,_ she called again. Silence. _Jereth?_

She reached for him and nearly stopped breathing. He was there, but he was asleep and it wasn't right. He should have woken when she called.

_Jereth?_ This time she put more force in it. He didn't stir. How long had he been sleeping? How long ago had it been since she talked to him? Where was he? Sidra knew now that it was Jereth that she had been missing before. He hadn't commented at any time during her meeting with Jadeheart, or even during her classes today. How could she have missed that too? She had been so caught up in other things-

"Sidra…" whispered a breathy voice below her. The hertasi had come to and was trying to talk.

"Shh, I'm calling for help," Sidra told her. "Don't try to talk."

"Sidra, he's- he's-"

"Who? Who did this to you?"

"Sidra-"

Something suddenly grabbed Sidra from behind, covering her mouth and yanking her off the floor. She fought, trying to claw at any piece of flesh she could reach, but she was thrown around too wildly to keep her equilibrium.

_Jereth!_ Her mind-voice screamed. She tried to scream physically but her attacker knew enough to muffle the magically potent sound of her voice and it had little effect.

_Altra! Altra, help_-, she tried again, just before she felt a magical 'pinch' in her head and fell into darkness.

* * *

Altra was dozing. Karal's fingers were buried in the soft fur just beneath his ear and it was hypnotizing him, just as Karal obviously knew it would. Natoli was nearby, talking softly with the Sunpriest, but the Firecat had stopped paying attention to what she was saying awhile ago.

Thankfully, Karal had let their link go blank, meaning that he was no longer looking through Altra's eyes, and thereby implying that Altra had permission to nap. Altra never actually napped while Karal was awake (he was a cat by nature), but he did doze and pretend he was sleeping.

And why not? It was the end of the day, the stone of the Shrine still smelled like sunlight, and his two favorite humans were together and happy. These were the kind of things Altra lived for. More than anything else, these things made him happy.

Had Altra been human, what happened next might have made his ears bleed. Since he was a Firecat, and not human, it only succeeded in making his fur suddenly stand on end and his body jump off Karal's lap. He physically and mentally hissed in surprise and mild pain.

_Altra! Altra, help-_

"Altra, what's wrong?" Karal asked, sounding worried and confused.

The Firecat barely heard him, standing on three legs with one paw in the air like he wanted to claw something. He resisted the urge to Jump- it was still unsafe and he couldn't afford the consequences if it went awry. He put his paw down, stuck his nose in the air, and waited for another mind-call but it didn't come.

Altra couldn't dismiss this. He had never heard Sidra sound that way, even when she had cornered that suicidal student on the bridge in the Field. She had sounded frightened and panicked, and her silence now was making him very uneasy.

"Altra?" Karal tried again.

_Something's wrong with Sidra_, Altra told him finally, leaping towards the door.

"How bad?" Natoli asked, getting up from her chair. Altra didn't have to look to know that Karal was up with her and that she would take charge of him.

_I'm not sure, but I think very. She sounded like she was very frightened. I'm going to her room_.

"We'll see if we can find Elspeth or Talia. Maybe she has a later class and her magic got away from her," Natoli answered.

Altra didn't reject her idea even though something told him it wasn't right. Karal and Altra both knew that Sidra usually took unexpected things calmly at first, especially when it pertained to some new twist in her Gifts, and then panicked about them later when Karal or Talia could help her work through it. Sidra's mind-voice made him think that whatever had happened had just happened. Still, Natoli's suggestion was practical and he would be very happy right now to be wrong.

The Firecat ran out the door and out of the Shrine, running down the lawn that separated the Shrine from the Palace proper. It was not quite a part of Companion's Field but it was easy to make that mistake, and it suddenly reminded him of Jereth.

Altra was a Firecat. Firecats, like Companions, had powers beyond any of the most powerful Herald and mages anywhere. So he should have been able to call Jereth, and Jereth should have been able to answer, especially since he was one of the two Companions who had no qualms about talking to someone who was not his Chosen. Yet, Altra was not Jereth's Chosen. This meant that when Jereth didn't answer, he wasn't able to tell why.

Still, Jereth should have answered, and while he was thinking about it, Altra wondered why Sidra hadn't called Jereth first. Unless something happened to Jereth. To both of them.

Altra picked up his pace.

_Gwena!,_ he called. _Gwena, find Jereth!_


	25. Chapter 25

Vree could not see very much better at night than his bondmate, but he went to the sky anyway at Darkwind's urging. The human showed him a picture of what he wanted and sent a feeling of haste to the forestgyre.

He unsteadily drifted in the air- nighttime was much cooler than day and there was less hot air to soar on. Vree, though, had practice at flying during the night and so he skillfully kept his height even if it wasn't a comfortable one he was used to.

The lack of thermals aside, Vree was confused. Darkwind had sent him up here to look for a white horse like Gwena, but not Gwena, who Vree could see running about the long stretch of green where Vree spent most of his days. He could also see other white horses, some with riders, most without, all over the bare patches and beneath perching trees. How was Vree supposed to know which one to look for? It wasn't as if Vree couldn't tell them apart; Vree could see the differences even in his dim nighttime vision. Darkwind however didn't tell the horses apart the same way Vree did, and so Vree didn't know which exact one he was looking for.

-?- he sent to Gwena below, who was talking to three other horses. Gwena sent him back a more detailed picture of the horse that was missing: taller, thicker than herself. Male. And long fur on his hooves.

Once he realized the horse would have the long hoof hair, Vree found him instantly. He'd seen that sort of hair on other horses, but not on most of the white ones that were Gwena's flock. Vree knew that there were only as many of the white horses with that hair as there were talons on one of his feet.

Vree dove out of the sky, swooped down over the horse's back and landed a bit clumsily in a tree (it was night, and he was proud he'd landed all right on the first try). Most land walkers got frightened when he swooped so close to their heads, but not this one. The forestgyre watched him, sent a picture to Gwena, and then reached for Darkwind again.

-Not moving- he said. -Flew too low. Didn't look up.-

-Is he alive?- Darkwind asked.

Vree peered at the horse. He couldn't tell. He did, however, know something about the horse was refusing to let his feathers settle properly.

-Can't tell. Feathers itchy.- He ran his beak through the pin feathers of a wing, trying to get them to lay straight, and flapped them a few times.

-Don't go near him, Vree. Stay where you are and let Gwena take care of him.-

-Magic. Yes.- Vree agreed.

* * *

Gwena raced to where Vree had told her, a feeling of dread passing over her. Jereth was a Companion who was sent out of the Bright Havens only at dire need. Aside from Rolan, he was probably the 'oldest' soul in the Circle, a reincarnation of one of the earliest Heralds, one that no one remembered but the Companions themselves. His 'age' gave him a certain amount wisdom and talent that even Gwena was in awe of a little bit; if there had been any earth-born Companion for Elspeth, it would have been Jereth. Eventually it had been deemed that a Grove-born would be more suitable for the first Herald-mage, and that Jereth would instead play a lesser role in establishing a firm foundation for the Mage Collegium (one she expected he was grateful for as he was never one to put himself in the spotlight, even as a Herald). Lesser role or not, Jereth's presence in Haven, especially now, made everyone feel a bit more secure.

She slowed down as she approached the area where Vree had seen him. If Jereth was magicked, it would be better to come upon him slowly so it would have less of a chance of affecting her too. He wasn't dead- Vree had seen Jereth standing; she just hoped that it was something she could break him out of. Somewhere behind her, Rolan was making his way up the Field.

Gwena circled slowly, stretching her head briefly to catch the strange smell coming off the stallion's body. She shook her head in surprise and disgust.

_Bloodpath_, she told Elspeth and Rolan, making no attempt to hide the acid in her voice. _He reeks of it_.

_Can you break the spell_?, Elspeth asked.

_Not sure. When Rolan gets here, we'll try_. Maybe. Bloodpath magic was not like True-magic or Herald-magic, which meant they might not be able to break the spell without finding the mage who cast it.

_How could this happen to Jereth?,_ she asked Rolan as he approached. _To Jereth?_

_He is fallible, Gwena, just like the rest of us. _

_But still-_

_He is not Grove-born, _Roland pointed out. _He has not been reincarnated since after Bard Stefan's death. And anyone can be taken by surprise. _

_Do you think we can free him?_

_No. We can hope that Elspeth and Kerowyn find the mage._

* * *

Mage-trainee Chrifin jogged down the stairs to the room where Haven's Heartstone sat with a heavy heart. He liked Herald-trainee Sidra; she had helped him out of a tight spot once. He didn't know anyone from his year who hadn't talked to her at least once, and none of them could say she hadn't helped them or didn't like her. And there was no one he could think of who would want to hurt Sidra. Ever.

When Herald-Captain Kerowyn and Herald-mage Elspeth had quietly told pulled him out of his room and told him what they wanted, he had been eager to go and find the son of a whore. Chrifin wasn't particularly good at battle-magics, but he had a knack for finding things, which was probably why he'd been asked to join the search team and not his roommate. His instincts had pulled him down this direction, and the closer he got to the Heartstone, the stronger the feeling got.

He paused halfway down the stairs; he could see into the room from there. It appeared to be undisturbed except for the figure that lay crumpled next to the table. _The Heartstone_, he reminded himself. _The table is part of the Heartstone._

The figure was obviously Sidra, though. She still had that distinctive ghostly appearance which was instantly recognizable. Chrifin jumped down the rest of the steps, two at a time, and rushed into the room.

He barely had time to notice that not only were her hands bound, but her mouth was heavily covered too, before something hit him on the back of the head. For a moment, the room was rushing upward, out of his blackening vision, and then his face hit the floor.


	26. Chapter 26

The first thing Elspeth noticed in the room was the blood. It was everywhere. On the floor, on the bed, there were even handprints smeared on the walls. She was sure there was actually less than there appeared to be, but she could have sworn five people had been attacked in here, not just one hertasi.

"I… I fought… couldn't stop him," little Freia breathed as Elspeth wrapped her in a blanket. "She hit the wall—" The Herald didn't have to look up to know what the hertasi meant. The handprints on the wall were too high up for the lizard to have done, which meant it had to have been either Sidra or the attacker.

"It's all right. I'm bringing you to the ekele," Elspeth murmured. The lizard was still bleeding and needed to be seen to immediately.

"Not to the Healer's wing?" Kerowyn asked behind her. "It's closer."

Elspeth shook her head, even though she knew Kero wasn't looking her way. "The Tayledras and the Kaled'a'in know hertasi anatomy better. Besides, I need to talk to Jadeheart. She was supposed to be meeting with Sidra tonight."

"I'll call if anything turns up," Kero said, still studying the blood patterns on the wall. She stepped out of the way to let Elspeth through, and then the former heir was leaving her behind as she hurried down the hallway.

Gwena met her at the nearest entrance to the Field. Elspeth swung up bareback, keeping the hertasi as still as she could, and secured her more firmly against her chest as the Companion began to move. She didn't break into a gallop but instead kept it to a trot, a pace which made Elspeth ache. They seemed to crawl through the Field, but as impatient as it made her, Elspeth knew it was the wiser choice. Moving the hertasi is general was tricky, let alone at a swift pace.

"I think I have her Whites made proper," Freia was babbling, most likely unaware she was speaking. Hertasi in general liked to surprise their favorite humans with their creations, and it unnerved Elspeth to hear her talking about it at all. "Thought it was unlucky, makin' 'em so soon… I knew they'd turn out… I left her room a mess…"

"I'll have someone else clean it for you while you're sick," Elspeth told her, trying to help the hertasi stay awake.

Freia reacted the way Elspeth had hoped she would. "Is my job!" she protested, "Who'll take care of her?"

"No one else could do it better than you."

"Make some nice trinkets for Jereth too, I think," Freia muttered.

"I don't think he'd like that very much," Elspeth said. She could see the ekele now. It was so close. She needed to keep Freia awake until they got there.

"Learn to like it. Nice beads for his hair. She sang me out of… I was… falling asleep…"

"Not now, Freia, stay awake," Elspeth urged, "Sidra sang to you?"

"Pain… Then her voice… it was gone, and he was behind her and she stopped," Freia moaned. "And she was screaming, screaming, but his hands…" The hertasi's own hands traveled through the blanket and up to her mouth. Her golden eyes closed in pain and sadness, starting to cry.

"He dragged her out by her hair!" she sobbed. "Her hands were red! Red all over my nice Grays, all over her, everywhere…"

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Elspeth cooed, trying to keep her voice steady and soothing.

"He wasn't Kaled'a'in, he wasn't! He wasn't!" Freia sobbed, and Elspeth went cold. "I didn't know him, I didn't know him!"

Stardove, one of the Kaled'a'in healers, rushed out of the ekele before Gwena could reach it, holding out his arms for the hertasi. Elspeth gently handed Freia over and slowly dismounted.

_She must have been mistaken,_ Gwena murmured. _I can't believe one of them would do this._

_She said it wasn't someone she knew, and Freia is one of the Kaled'a'in's hertasi_, Elspeth told the Companion.

_Was she? She seemed so shy. I assumed she was from the Tayledras' group._

_No, she's from k'Leshya. I thought she was from k'Vala like the others, but one of the other k'Leshya hertasi is an elder brother of hers_. Elspeth paused, watching Stardove disappear into the ekele. _The attacker must have wanted people to think he was Kaled'a'in. The question is was he a fanatic or a hire on?_

_You think someone paid him to frame the Kaled'a'in?_

_Stranger things have happened_, Elspeth reminded her.

* * *

Jadeheart rose from her meditation, hearing commotion outside. Lotyn, one of the hertasi who had traveled with her delegation from k'Leshya stood outside the doorway, his long tail twitching nervously.

"What is wrong?" Jadeheart asked him, trying not to frown.

"Freia was attacked. They're bringing her in right now."

"Attacked?"

"Someone stabbed her," Lotyn whispered, his eyes hard and angry as he scanned the path where Stardove was rushing to the entrance. The Healer was gone for a brief moment, and then reappeared with a bundle in his arms. He was followed by a white figure who proved to be Herald Princess Elspeth.

"Where was she attacked?" Jadeheart asked.

"In the Palace. In Trainee Sidra's room," Lo answered.

"What was she doing there?" Jadeheart asked, surprised.

"She has a fondness for Sidra. All of us do, but it's different with Freia. Just as it is with you and me," he added, smiling up at her briefly.

Jadeheart watched Herald Elspeth peer after Stardove until he was gone, then turning to see Jadeheart herself, began to walk further in towards the kestra'chern. Her face was troubled and angry.

"Jadeheart, may I have a word?" Elspeth asked as she drew closer.

"Yes of course Lady Elspeth." Jadeheart stepped aside, sweeping a hand in an invitation for the Herald to enter her room. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you," the Herald answered quietly, turning back briefly to smile at the kestra'chern. She eased herself into one of Jadeheart's chairs and ran a tired hand across her forehead.

"This is going to sound strange, Jadeheart," Elspeth began, looking up at her again, "but have you had any problems with anyone in the Palace? Has anyone you don't know visited? Or has someone you do know come unexpectedly?"

Jadeheart shook her head, lowering herself into a chair nearby. "No. Not that I know of. Is there someone you had in mind?"

"No, no," Elspeth answered, shaking her head. "I do have reason to believe that Freia and Sidra's attacker wanted everyone to think he was Kaled'a'in."

"Why," Lotyn demanded, standing by Jadeheart's elbow.

"Sidra has been attacked as well?" Jadeheart exclaimed at the same time. "How badly is she hurt?"

"We don't know. She is missing. The Firecat Altra heard Sidra call magically for help not a candlemark ago. When Altra got to her rooms, Freia was on the floor, but Sidra was nowhere to be found. Her Companion has been incapacitated.

"While I was bringing her over, Freia mentioned that the man who had stabbed her wasn't a Kaled'a'in she knew. I can't believe that any Kaled'a'in or Tayledres would ever hurt a hertasi, so I think that the man wanted people to think he was one or the other," Elspeth explained quietly. Jadeheart heard Lotyn gasp next to her and turned in time to see him lower himself onto a low stool, looking shocked and pale.

When the kestra'chern looked back, Elspeth was rubbing her forehead again. "Jadeheart, did Sidra mention any concerns at all to you? I mean ones pertaining to specific people. If there is nothing else I have learned about her, it's that she is an excellent judge of character. She might have mentioned him to you."

Jadeheart let out a breath. "I was planning on mentioning this to you myself, but not tonight. She did mention someone to me, a former teacher of hers named Crim."

"Crim," Elspeth repeated slowly. "Freelance mage, yes? From somewhere south of Valdemar. He specializes in illusions. I thought I had heard he had left the city."

"She told me that she had encountered him a few days ago in a remote part of Companion's Field. He was distraught, grief stricken. She was afraid he could become violent towards himself. I advised her to speak to Talia or the Healers about him.

"But I wanted to speak to you about Crim for another reason, Elspeth." Now Jadeheart was the one rubbing her face. "A former friend of mine, Moonflower, once wrote to me about a mage named Crim, or rather about his involvement with a student of hers. She was afraid that their relationship had progressed beyond kestra'chern and client, which can happen, but Crim was- disturbed." Jadeheart paused, trying to catch her bearings. It was unbelievable that she had spoken about Moonflower not once, but twice in so short a time. She could not remember the last time she had mentioned Moonflower to anyone before Darkwind.

"You think they are one and the same?" Elspeth hazarded.

"I couldn't be sure," Jadeheart said, knowing she was not being helpful, "but I can tell you that not long after, Moonflower and the entire village was destroyed. There were thought to be no survivors. Only a few traces of Moonflower and her party were recovered."

"How was the village destroyed?"

The kestra'chern shook her head. "The inhabitants of the neighboring village couldn't say. They did know there had been a fire, and they did know that it was mage-lit, but other than that, they were unable to determine anything more."

"Are you saying there might have been a murderer living in Haven, in the Palace, this whole time? Under our noses," Elspeth whispered.

Jadeheart didn't answer except to nod once.


	27. Chapter 27

Jereth stood motionless below the tree where Vree had originally found him. Rolan still kept watch over him, but Gwena had been replaced by Sayvil, who circled him impatiently. Like her Chosen, Kerowyn, she did not like feeling helpless, and it served to pile annoyance onto her already black mood.

_Stop pacing_, Rolan told her quietly. _At the very least, you'll kill the grass._

Sayvil stopped but it was not at his bidding. She looked at Jereth for a moment, then reached out with her long neck and bit Jereth just below the ear. It wasn't hard enough to break the skin, yet it should have been enough to elicit a response.

It did, but not the reaction Sayvil wanted. She had hoped the pain would startle Jereth into breaking the spell himself; he was more than strong enough. Instead, her bite only served to make Rolan rear up on his hind legs angrily.

_What are you doing!,_ he demanded.

_Damn it all!,_ she retorted back. _When Kero finds him, I will personally stomp scoundrel into the ground!_

_I think this Crim is definitely our man_, Kero piped up suddenly from inside the Palace. _Look at this._

Sayvil reached out to look through her Chosen's eyes. At first glance, the room was messy, but to Kero's trained sight, it looked ransacked. Someone had been searching to room for something specific. Furniture was upended. There were clothes all over the floor.

Kero was specifically looking at a mess of clothes on the bed. The ones on the floor were of normal mage fare, but these on the bed were not. Sayvil's Chosen lifted up a robe to inspect it closer.

_That looks Kaled'a'in_, Sayvil remarked.

_It is_, Kero replied. _And it's not a copy either. This was made in k'Leysha Vale. Or in White Gryphon._

_So, he did manage to take something from those kestra'chern's he slaughtered_, Sayvil muttered darkly.

_We do not know the circumstances of the events that led to the village's demise_, Rolan reminded her.

_Hmph,_ was her grumpy reply. She knew he was right, of course, but at the moment she was in no mood to be objective and unbiased.

_These have been worn. Recently. I can smell sweat on them_, Kero told her. _He must be wearing another robe now._

_Is there anything to indicate where he might have taken Sidra?_

_Wait._ Sayvil watched Kero sift through a trunk on the floor by the foot of the bed. _I think there is a journal here._

_Sayvil! Rolan! _

Both Companions lifted their heads to the frantic cry. Sayvil didn't recognize the voice right away.

_The Heartstone!_

* * *

Herald Chrysal stood anxiously in the doorway of Sidra's room, watching Kerowyn stare at the blood patterns on the wall. She tried not to shift from foot to foot, willing the adrenaline in her system to ebb to a more manageable amount. Not two hours ago, she had arrived back in Haven from her Internship, and should have been tired from the year long ride, but this whole business prevented her from even thinking about sleeping.

The nervous energy coursing through her was what finally drove her out of the room. She could no longer stand by and just simply watch, so she decided to join the other searchers combing the Palace.

_Why don't you go find Chrifin_, her Companion offered.

With a sigh, Chrysal decided to take his advice. Her little brother had been pulled from his room to join the search, so he was somewhere about. Glad now to have a destination, Chrysal began to make her way to where he was. It wasn't difficult since they were brother and sister, and they were used to sharing magic. All she had to do was reach for him, and the link would guide her.

She was, however, puzzled when she realized that she was headed into the room above the Heartstone. As a Herald-mage, she was something akin to a Journeyman, and so would her brother be. Why was he down here since he wouldn't be able to use the Heartstone's power? Was he stupid enough to try?

Chrysal jogged down the stairs, watching her feet to make sure she didn't trip down the rest of the way. When she looked up just one stair short of the bottom, the first thing she saw was the actual Heartstone. Then she saw the figure below it.

Her brother was laying flat on his back on the floor, his arms and legs bare and slashed. There were red pools of blood all up and down beneath his limbs and beneath his head. The sight of him overrode her training. She rushed into the room without thinking.

He caught her cleanly in the stomach, and the breath left her body in a gasp. Chrysal looked up into the man's face; his eyes were wide and very blue, and not at all how she pictured. He was the one who looked panicked, far more so than herself, and there seemed to be no malevolence in him at all.

He let her slide down to the floor. When she hit, she barely had time to note the knife in his hand, the one he'd stabbed her with, before the pain engulfed her. Her eyes swam with tears, and all she could do was lay on the floor, trying to breathe.

She must have swooned for a moment or two. Chrysal woke again to find him muttering to himself. She could hear him pacing, but could not bring herself to look.

"Now I have two," he was saying. "I don't need to use Sidra. I can spare her. She'll help them see. She'll help them forgive me."

He passed into her limited field of vision. His feet were dirty. His clothes were clearly not Valdemarian— either Tayledras or Kaled'a'in— but he was speaking Valdemarian.

He bent down over her brother, the bloody knife raised in one hand. Chrysal let out a tiny squeak in protest, but he didn't hear her. The attacker was staring down at Chrifin with a horrified expression that quickly turned into one of pain.

"I can't. Not again." He stood, wringing his bloody hands through his long dark hair.

_Can't be Tayledras_, Chrysal told her Companion brokenly. _His hair isn't cut the right way._

_What?_

"But this was how it was done," he whispered. "I must fix it this way. By blood, only by blood." He turned back, looming over Chrifin again.

_Chrysal, what's happening? What's wrong?_

He slowly bent down to Chrifin. In desperation, Chrysal looked about the room, trying to find anything that could help. She suddenly saw something move in the corner of her eye. Nearby, shifting slowly on the floor was the pale figure of Sidra.

_Chrysal where are you!_

Her eyes were bound. They were always bound, she remembered. Then she noticed that Sidra's mouth and hands were bound as well. Sidra wriggled closer, as if she knew Chrysal had seen her. Chrifin had told her about Sidra. She reached out, ignoring the blinding pain in her abdomen-

Something grabbed a hold of her ankle. Chrysal looked back in alarm and found that he'd shifted his attention to her again.

"You're a Herald," he remarked.

_Chrysal!_

Time seemed to slow down. Chrysal looked back at her outstretched arm and found Sidra's face somewhere by her elbow. The man yanked her closer to him, foolishly putting her hand by Sidra's nose.

_The Heartstone!,_ she screamed in her mind, as he lifted the knife over her body. Her fingers hooked onto fabric and she tugged frantically. He brought the knife down.

Then the world broke apart.


	28. Chapter 28

When Sidra woke again, she was assaulted by feelings of grief and desperation. It swept her up out of herself, pulling her into a dark, awful place, and she struggled to break free of it. Feelings and words passed through her, like memories she couldn't quite place.

_I didn't mean to…_

There was someone she cared for, someone she felt she didn't deserve. Someone she loved. He loved her back but hid it. She didn't believe his lies. She thought it was something she had done.

_I only wanted to be worthy…_

She hatched a plan. A plan to make herself better. Prettier. Stronger. She would be worthy.

_I was a fool…_

But it got out of hand. She made a hard choice and he fought her, tried to make her stop. She lost control. Blood. Fire. Screams. She barely pulled him out of harm's way. Yet, she was too late.

_They died…_

With the last of her strength, she tried to save him. Them.

_It was the only thing I could do_.

She thought she'd failed. For years, she believed them both to be lost, her little friend and her love. She wandered, trying to forget.

_You made me see…_

There was a song. A voice. It opened a locked part in her mind and she realized she had succeeded. Her friend and her love were both alive. Inside of her soul.

_Three of us, sharing one body…_

She was the only one aware. The other two had no idea they had died, and were living as they wanted to live. They saw her as they would see themselves.

_I had no control anymore…_

It ate her alive, the guilt. Yet she had no solution except to part from them. She would not let them just go however. No, she would bring them back.

_No more…_

Sidra suddenly was set free, spat out, and slammed back into herself. The jumble of memories disoriented her still, and she struggled to find her center. It seemed to take forever, but eventually she succeeded, and threw up her shields, far heavier ones than she had ever erected before. The world was silent and still.

For all her efforts, Sidra was still not wholly deafened. Physical senses were not so easily blocked out as magical ones, and so she did not achieve to perfect obliviousness that she craved. She was awfully aware of the sour, metallic smell wafting beneath her nose, and there was a persistent swishing noise that she was having trouble ignoring. Then she began to realize that her arms were not only pinned behind her back, but they were tied there. Her mouth was covered tightly.

Something hit the ground a few feet from her and she let her shields thin just a bit. The taint of bloodpath magic was all around her, as well as a beacon of true magic. The Heartstone! She was in the room of the Heartstone! Crim was connecting his bloodpath magic to the Heartstone!

Sidra panicked and started to wriggle. Her shields thinned even more and not only could she feel the crazed emotions of Crim, but also the pained, frightened lights of the other people in the room. They were on the floor with her, and the younger of them was unconscious. The other was a Herald- and she was awake.

She started to wriggle closer. If only she was within reach! The cloth around her mouth needed to come off and the floor was too slick to rub it off by herself. She could only hope this unfamiliar Herald would understand what she was trying to do.

Sidra heard the Herald slide away and she felt Crim's emotion's surge. "You're a Herald," he said, and Sidra froze. Crim had realized that this Herald could sound the alarm through her Companion, and was moving to eliminate her. Two fingers suddenly made their way beneath the strip around her mouth. They slipped…

But not before pulling the cloth free.

Sidra flipped onto her back and threw back her head as she began to sing. It wasn't any particular tune or song, but it was saturated in her Empathy and her Healing, drawing from the pain in the Herald and in her own heart. Tad and Bluehawk were also there in the song, but they were of Sidra's vision of them, not how Crim remembered them. The still sane part of Crim had introduced them to her, and so now, she must reintroduce them to the rest of him.

Of Tad she sang for his adoration and worship of who Crim used to be; Crim was his hero, his savior, his mentor. She sang for his happiness to be with him, for his content to care for him, and for how grateful he was to be apprenticed to him. She sang for his forgiveness of Crim's betrayal, and for the depth of his love.

Of Bluehawk, she sang for his sorrow. It was he who had been a fool, he who had pushed the mage away. She sang of their lifebond, of which Crim had been unaware, of which Bluehawk had tried to deny. Her voice translated his bid for forgiveness at having driven Crim to his misguided deeds, and his wish to be let go now. His promise that they would once again be together. His understanding that everything would end.

Beneath the Empathy and the Healing, her Mage-gift slid its way unhindered around the spell that Crim had used to keep Tad and Bluehawk's souls in this realm, in his own soul. It ate away at the bonds his spell had erected, and finally bit through them.

Sidra broke off her song, feeling the souls fly free. The connection between Crim and the Heartstone shattered. A gaping hole opened up in Crim where it should have been all along. Then there was nothing in Crim at all, and she heard his body slump to the floor.

The Herald drifted away into unconsciousness, overwhelmed by what had just transpired and by simple relief. Sidra let herself drift as well, but not into the same place. Jereth stirred in the back of her mind. There were footsteps coming towards the room- Darkwind, Kerowyn, others…

A brighter light than them all flew into the room first, and Sidra tried not to protest as Altra began to rub his nose and cheeks all over her face. His purring filled the room and her heart. Darkwind pushed the Firecat out of the way and started to work on the bonds around her wrists, but she shook her head.

"I'm all right, see to them first," she protested weakly. "He didn't hurt me."

"They're being taken care of," Darkwind said softly, removing the cloth. He helped her move her arms out from behind her back. She winced (they were stiff!) and the Tayledras mage rubbed them a bit to loosen her muscles.

Eventually, Darkwind gently picked her up and began to carry her out of the room. Sidra felt a Healer rush past them and finally allowed herself to relax. She laid her head against Darkwind's shoulder and let herself go totally limp.

* * *

_So, Bluehawk was actually Crim himself dressed in Bluehawk's clothe_s?, Jereth asked, nuzzling his Chosen's hair. He drooled on her on purpose and was momentarily concerned when she didn't react. For three days, she had been like this, giving minimal responses and one word answers. Something about the whole event had left Sidra numb, and Jereth was not entirely sure there was anything he could do to break her out of it except to be supportive.

_Yes and no. The person speaking through Crim's mouth was Bluehawk, but it was _Crim's_ mouth_, Sidra answered.

_And he had no memory of the accident that had destroyed the village?,_ Jereth prompted.

_No. None of them did. The memory was wiped clean and was replaced by a fantasy._

_And Tad was Crim's original sacrifice?_

_Crim couldn't think of anyone else he could use. It was his first time even attempting bloodpath magic. He thought that he would be able to do it cleanly. He… botched… it._

Jereth nuzzled Sidra again. Studying her by sight was no good since she was adept at hiding her body language, and even Feeling her right now was difficult. She had up more shields than he had ever known her to use.

_I think_, she said, _I was all three of them in that moment. I don't have memories like theirs, but I know things. They lived separate lives all in one body._

She surprised him then by laying her head down and snuggling against his flank. One of her hands reached up to thread her fingers in his mane.

_They might have continued to do so if not for that first lesson. The one where Bard Malic made me sing unhindered. That was when they all started to become aware that something was wrong. Crim began to have dreams. Bluehawk began to think Crim was stalking him. Tad started to realize that his master was not well_, she explained. _It was Crim who began to remember what had happened. His spell had gone awry when Bluehawk tried to stop him, and it ended up destroying the whole village. Crim managed to pull Tad and Bluehawk away, but they were both dying. He stopped their souls from moving on by putting them in a vessel that could hold them._

_Into himself_, Jereth murmured.

_To me, they felt like different people all together. I could see that they weren't well, but I couldn't see their connection_, she added. For the first time since the accident, there was emotion in her voice; she sounded sad and regretful.

_It was not your fault_, he told her.

_I know. And I'm sorry I'm worrying you__. But_, she paused, then said,_ I felt them die. I used two of them to kill all three of them. _

_You saved at least two innocent people, _he reminded her_. If his spell to bring them back hadn't worked the first time, how many other times would he have tried?_

Jereth knew she couldn't answer and inwardly sighed. He had given her an opening to fall silent.

Again she surprised him. Sidra took a firmer grip on his mane and swung herself up onto his back.

_Take me out into the sunshine_, she said, _where it's warm. I want to run_.

Her Companion was only too happy to oblige.


	29. Chapter 29

_Author's Edit: An anonymous reviewer just asked me why Altra didn't just Jump to help Sidra when he found out she was missing. To answer that question since I can't reply directly- first, if I'm not mistaken, I believe firecats need to know exactly where they are going, and Altra did not know where Sidra was. Second, firecats no longer care to Jump at all. At the end of the Mage Storms Trilogy, Altra himself makes a comment that it might not be safe, even over short distances, so he and Hansa no longer do it._

Epilogue~

An'desha sat down in a more secluded part of the camp, looking down at the two letters in his hand. One of them was surely from Karal; he always wrote this time of year so An'desha was expecting his letter. The other was an unknown and so the Sworn One opened it first, just to get it out of the way. It was written in Shin'a'in, but in a handwriting that he didn't recognize.

It said:

_Dear An'desha,_

_How are you? I hope you and the Clan you travel with are well. It is starting to snow here and everything is wet and cold. I'm not sure why, but there is a certain giddiness that has come over all the Companions, including Jereth, and I can't help but laugh whenever he asks to go riding._

_I'm doing well here. It was hard in the beginning because my Gifts are so sensitive, but things are getting easier every day. I'm learning so much, and more importantly than that, I'm starting to grow up out of the person I was when we first met. With any luck, a good amount of wisdom will come with my increasing age. I hope to make my instructors (and you) proud._

_I wanted to write you this letter to address certain issues between us, and to hopefully—hopefully—start up a routine correspondence. Karal told me what you couldn't tell me when I was there last year. To be honest, I was a little bit angry that you couldn't tell me yourself._

_Yet, after having the time to reflect, I slowly realized that you had done the right thing. If you had told me when I was living with your clan, I can't say for sure that I would not have asked to stay. Parting with you would have been much more difficult, and I'm not sure I would have truly understood why you were letting me go. I think it would have ruined any relationship we might have had._

_And to answer your question (I'm an Empath, I know you have one), yes, this does mean I feel we should, and perhaps already do, have a relationship. Regardless of how the deed was done, you are the only family that I have ever known. I think I was so angry with you because I had already had begun to think of you as sort of the father-figure in my life, so I'm sorry to say that you're stuck with me._

_I have not met Nyara yet, but Karal tells me that you both are estranged from each other, and I would not wish to complicate her life further. I think I must wait until I am older and more experienced before I make myself known._

_I wanted to also say thank you. Even far away, you still help me every day, whether it is from the advice you have given me, or from the foundations you helped me lay. I am proud to call myself your daughter._

_I wish you well, and hope to hear back from you soon._

_Yours always,_

_Sidra, as penned by Bard Lucilla_

An'desha closed the letter slowly, sparing only a second's thought on wondering who Lucilla was. Then he opened the letter back up and read it again.

After he was done, he felt his body suddenly relax. Hope bloomed in his heart, the tiny little bud he had been trying to ignore since Sidra had left him so long ago. While he did feel like he had made a mistake in asking Karal to tell Sidra about their connection instead of sending her a letter himself, he had the feeling now that things were going to work out.

The Sworn One felt a smile creep across his face. The letter from his heart-brother would have to wait. He had his own to write first.

~Fin~

_Author's Note: Oh my god! It's over! It only took me- what?- almost thirty chapters and three years to write! ...._

_I just want to thank all the people who faved and watched this story- it really kept me going. I originally posted this up to get it out of my head; I have other non-fanfictional projects that I am working on, and Sidra's story kept interfering with those. I never thought it would receive any attention at all._

_I also wanted to thank all of the reviewers for their critiques and suggestions. Believe it or not, they have really helped me grow as a writer, and helped me see a few bad habits that I had picked up while I had been writing for my own eyes only. One of those (a few of you have yelled at me for it) is my substituting w/ for the word with. It is a shortcut I use when I pen things by hand, and it unfortunately, it sneaks in when I type too._

_Thank you for reading everyone!_

_A note about Jereth's past- I have to put this in. It is a big frustration for me that a lot of the Companions' backgrounds are not ever explained (I know you aren't supposed to know, but I wanna!), so I am going to give you just a bit of who I think Jereth is or was._

_Jereth was an early Herald who made a name for himself as a diplomat. Like Sidra, he went blind at an early age, but it was from a malady he contracted as a child, and his vision loss was very slow over time. Unlike Sidra, his only Gift was Empathy, and he was known in many places as simply a very wise, learned man._

_He's never been reincarnated as a Herald again, and his name never sounds like the one before it. The last time he was reincarnated was just after Vanyel's death, to help with Bard Stefan's task. _

_I also wanted to say that I'm sorry I didn't give a better description of Jereth in the beginning. It took me awhile- oh like, two or three years- to realize that I hadn't mentioned that his lower legs were heavily feathered. I've always imagined some of the bigger Companions, like Rolan, with them, and I've always wondered (since the idea of Companions is obviously based on horses) if any of them actually WERE born with or developed feathered socks. And anyways, it's MY fanfic. If some of the Harry Potter fanfiction writers can have babies growing out of Snape's nose (no lie, it was a gross fic), then I can have a Companion with feathered lower legs. I'm a sucker for Clydesdales._

_As Misty says: Wind to thy wings!_


End file.
